What's going on here?
by queroro
Summary: The Fates have let Harry Potter in on some secrets surrounding his school arch-nemesis, and now Draco Malfoy's life is in the hands of the Golden Trio. Harry's POV, set in "return year". Rated M for one account of rape. AN crackfic turned crapfic. Am insisting on finishing anyway.
1. Harry is a stuffed dolphin

**_AN - 24 May 2013:_******_Greetings people. This story started out as some sort of crackfic. Almost 20 chapters in, I fear it has become crap-fic. In a few chapters, there will be OCs. Just thought I should warn you. I'm still gonna keep typing up new chapters anyway. On another note, I wrote a much better Drarry titled "Detention". It's a one-shot fluff of sorts._

* * *

It was towards the start of Christmas break, and I was walking alone down this deserted corridor at school, when I suddenly saw Malfoy exiting a room a little ways ahead. He looked tensed and sad, somewhat, and seemed to be sneaky about leaving the place. He didn't see me and went away in the other direction.

Naturally, I thought he was doing suspicious things in the room he was in, so I went in to investigate.

It was an unused classroom with a grand piano in the middle and a wooden bench to the side facing this piano. I noticed that the piano was not as dusty as the rest of the room, and I shockingly realised that Malfoy was in this room playing this piano. I went to it and sat down.

But suddenly, I was a stuffed dolphin and couldn't move. I now believed that Malfoy was in here setting up a trap. A weird trap that transfigures intruders into stuffed dolphins when they touch the piano. I tried to groan in exasperation but nothing came out; I was decidedly an inanimate, sentient, stuffed dolphin.

I waited and waited for hours. I noticed that it was getting darker, and soon found that it was nighttime. Has no one realised that I've gone missing? Goddammit, Malfoy!

It was probably past midnight when someone finally entered the room. To my horror, it was Malfoy.

He approached me still a stuffed dolphin on the piano. I expected him to start laughing and triumphantly announce that he's got me and that I'm an idiot. But I was surprised at how disappointed I felt when he just looked at me in utter confusion.

Then he picked me up and placed me on the wooden bench before returning to the piano and sat down. What the fuck, man? Change me back!

He apparently didn't hear me, and he just started talking to no one in particular. At the very least, it looked like he was just talking to the piano.

"For a minute there, I thought _you_ left the dolphin. But that can't be. I guess someone else just found our hideout. I hope they'll leave us alone. It'll be Christmas break soon; I want to have our room all to myself."

Then he started playing the piano.

It was a tentative play, like he was trying to play a song by ear, a song he had heard so long ago already. At some points he just exhaled sharply in frustration for getting the wrong keys.

I realised then that he didn't know that I was in fact me, Harry Potter, transfigured into a stuffed dolphin. He thought someone else had just forgot me there, and he had at first thought that that someone was whoever it was he was talking to. Dreadfully, I remembered that I haven't settled any plans for the coming Christmas break, meaning I would be stuck like this here until term restarts, unless someone comes find me soon. Which is almost unlikely, because _I haven't settled on any plans_! Ron and Hermione could think I had just upped and went holidaying on my own!

Soon, Malfoy stopped trying to play and left, and I was alone again to wait. I wondered if I could die of starvation being a stuffed dolphin. I hoped not.

No one came for me, and I resigned to being stuck like this for the whole holiday. On the upside, I evidently would not die of starvation; I felt no hunger, no thirst, no fatigue. I was decidedly just a stuffed dolphin.

Malfoy kept coming into the room after curfew, each night the same routine. He would talk to himself, play the piano, and leave, not paying me any mind. At first I was frustrated, but then I started to just listen to him talk and play, and found a sort of companion in it. My mind now made of cotton stuffing, I stopped worrying so much and just began to look forward to having Malfoy around.

It was the third night since Christmas break began, the fourth night of my being a stuffed dolphin. Malfoy was standing up to leave. I was a little sad, but was soon elated to find that he was walking towards my wooden bench.

"They forgot you, then?" he said, stroking my snout, or face, I don't know anymore.

I want to lean into the touch, and to be cuddled, which must be a stuffed dolphin thing, because Harry Potter _never_ wants to be touched by Malfoy.

Then he picked me up, and left the room with I the stuffed dolphin tucked under his arm.

This wasn't the first time I went into the Slytherin dungeon, but this was the first time I lie on a pillow in a Slytherin dorm room. Salazar Slytherin was a very biased wizard; while Gryffindor's sleep five lions to a den, Slytherin's snakes have a room with en-suite bathroom each. I think Harry Potter would have been enraged at the unfairness of it all, but I the stuffed dolphin only decided that this is a very nice room.

To my side is a teddy bear, which Harry Potter would have laughed at; the idea of Malfoy sleeping with stuffed animals. But I am a stuffed dolphin sitting on Malfoy's bed next to his teddy bear, so I only feel... Hurm... Stuffed.

Wait. Wait! I am _not_ a stuffed dolphin! I am Harry Potter, and I am slowly fading away! Help! Someone, anyone, HELP!

Malfoy returned into the room then. I screamed at him again, begging for mercy. But he still cannot hear me. He is talking to the teddy bear.

"You wouldn't happen to know this fish, would you?" he made the teddy bear look at me.

I'm a dolphin, Malfoy, and dolphins are mammals.

No. I mean, I'm a human being! Fuck!

"Her owner had left her in our hideout. I think they left for Christmas break. You don't mind having her around, do you?"

This was just great. Malfoy have decided that I am a female stuffed dolphin, and he only talks to the teddy bear. It isn't even a real person. _I_ am a person. I'm your bloody arch-nemesis. It's me!

Christmas break had never felt this long. I guess it's because I usually have fun during it, even when I spend them at school. This time, it seemed I would spend it in Malfoy's room. Wrong on so many levels, except when I'm just a stuffed dolphin.

Malfoy still went to play piano at night, leaving me in his room. I can't say I miss hearing his off-key performances, at least now I spend most of the day watching Malfoy in his element. Hopefully I'll find out something embarrassing about him. I must keep thinking like this lest I fade away into oblivion.

I am Harry Potter, and Malfoy is the enemy.

My enemy sometimes talk to his teddy bear. I learned that it was a token of remembrance from a former lover. At least, I think it's a lover. At any rate, the previous owner had been very dear to him. He doesn't cuddle it in his sleep; it was simply the shadow of a companion long gone. I gradually felt pity for my enemy.

Sometimes, he would stroke the teddy bear, rearranging its fibres. He would stroke me, too, and if I could, I would bite him, or just purr. It's a stuffed dolphin thing.

I was resigning to the holiday being uneventful like this all through, but I was wrong.

It was halfway through Christmas break, and my enemy was currently lying on his stomach in bed, doing homework. I would kick and scream, realising I'm facing detention for not doing mine, but of course I could not.

Another Slytherin entered the room. I remember his name to be Theodore Nott.

"Hey, Draco." Nott greeted good-naturedly.

I thought briefly that I saw it wrong, but Malfoy _did_ freeze when Nott had let himself in.

"What is it? I'm busy," Malfoy told him, his tone dismissing.

What happened next happened very quickly.

* * *

_**Author's Notes**_

_I just typed this one up as I go. The last time I did that, I fell off my dinosaur. Hence the randomness of it all. Well, I just hope I manage to keep things under control. _


	2. Harry is still a stuffed dolphin

Theodore Nott let himself into my enemy's room one day. Malfoy was doing homework in his bed, lying on his stomach. I thought I saw it wrong when Malfoy froze as Nott entered. I wasn't wrong.

Malfoy reached for his wand under the pillow, but failed to retrieve it. Nott was on top of him in a flash. He grabbed a fistful of Malfoy's hair and jerked it backwards, and his other hand had grabbed Malfoy's wand arm so forcefully I thought he was going to break it.

"But I'm bored out of my mind, and you promised," Nott hissed into my enemy's ear.

"I did no such thing! Let go! Argh!" Malfoy struggled against him, but he was in a disadvantageous position. He tried to kick backwards and fell flat on his face. At any other time I might have laughed at him, but right now I only saw someone being bullied and hurt, and I can do nothing but watch helplessly.

"Get the fuck off, Nott!"

But Nott only turned him on his back and started punching his chest. He landed blow after blow, and soon enough Malfoy was completely immobilised. I desperately wished Nott was now satisfied and would leave, but what he did next just petrified me.

He began ripping Malfoy's clothes off. I wanted to punch the hungry look out of his eyes. But I couldn't, I didn't, and I watched him take my enemy.

Nott forced his lips on Malfoy's, pinning him under his full weight. Wherever his teeth nibbled, the skin breaks, and wherever he touched, he bruised him.

"Stop fighting, Draco." But Malfoy clawed and bit. Every ounce of energy focused on resisting, futile. It just wasn't enough. I wish now Malfoy wasn't so thin, so delicate.

I saw Nott bringing one hand between Malfoy's legs. His robes covered most of Malfoy's lower body, but after a while I could make out my enemy's manhood growing between them. My heart broke when Malfoy gave up fighting and started begging him to stop.

"You say that, but you don't really want me to stop," Nott's hand then moved to firmly grasp Malfoy's erection. The blond arched his back, groaning. "You like this."

I watched Malfoy dig his nails into his attacker. Nott didn't even bat an eyelash. My enemy started to whimper. Stop it, please...

If I wasn't a stuffed dolphin, Nott would be dead.

But I was a stuffed dolphin, and Nott was alive with lust and dark magic. Malfoy tensed and whimpered underneath him as Nott pounded inside him, never letting up, never relenting. I watched, pathetically, until Nott released into him and they both fell, exhausted, Malfoy more so.

"You should be thanking me, Draco. I'm the only one willing to sate your devious desires." Nott said to him, merciless even in his speech, before he finally left the room.

Malfoy laid motionless, exposed and covered in bruises and ink. For a moment, I feared the worst, but soon he turned on his side and curled into himself, wincing as he did.

I wanted for the first time in my life to be able to comfort Malfoy then. But all I could do was watch again as he fell asleep.

When he awoke the next morning, I nearly broke down crying; the bruises looked much, much worse. Malfoy took his wand from under the pillow and limped into his bathroom, locking the door behind him.

He was still in the shower when I heard a knock on the other door. "Malfoy, we're coming in. You best be decent!"

A tall, dark boy opened the door and poked his head inside. I recognised him as Blaise Zabini. Someone pushed him from behind into the room before entering himself. It was Theodore Nott.

I sent prayers to the heavens for Malfoy to have heard them, and choose to stay in the bathroom until they give up and left. I hope they will give up.

"What in Salazar's name happened here?" Zabini asked no one in particular, surveying the mess on the bed in shock.

"Nervous breakdown, probably. Draco hasn't had a girl in ages." Nott answered condescendingly.

Oh how I wish I could wring him dry of his blood right now.

"See if you can't coax him out of the shower, Blaise."

Zabini nodded and went for the bathroom door. He knocked before calling into the wood, "Draco, it's us. Let's finish up Potions today."

Please, please don't listen to him.

If I still had any blood, it would drain from my face then, as Malfoy opened the door, towel-clad.

"What time is it?" Malfoy asked, surprisingly calmly, having caught sight of Nott at the other side of the room.

"What. The. Fuck." Zabini eyed him up and down and up again, mouth agape as he took in the bruises on his shoulders and midriff, and what could not be mistaken for anything else than bite marks.

"Merlin, Draco, I said get a girl, not a bloody werewolf!" Nott exclaimed, feigning ignorance.

If I still had any blood then, it would boil.

Malfoy shrugged, which made him wince slightly. "They're obviously human bites, Nott. I did get a girl. A pathetic sadist who needs to feel better about their pathetic self by hurting others."

Nott visibly stiffened at this, and for the first time in my life, I was cheering Malfoy's snide comment.

"Which feisty babe was it?" Zabini asked, grinning.

"Some Hufflepuff, I don't remember her name." Malfoy answered.

"Well, we'll leave you to get dressed then. The common room, in 5." Nott cut in and beckoned to Zabini.

He let the dark boy lead, turning back to Malfoy and mouthed, "you're gonna pay for that."

Malfoy waved his wand then, smashing the door in Nott's face.

Malfoy was gone for most of that day. I was left again to dwell on my thoughts. So Malfoy was a closeted gay, but there must be a bigger reason to cover up what Nott did to him, because what he did was beyond horrible. Was he... No. Could he be? Draco Malfoy, a masochist? No... No, he really hated it when Nott... No.

When Malfoy returned that night, he was clearly exhausted. I watched him in the mirror as he brushed his teeth and washed his face. He collapsed into the bed, but did not immediately fall asleep.

He was talking to the teddy bear again.

"That Nott must be a Gryffindor. The nerve of him! Fucking bastard! What the fuck would _he_ know? It's not my _fault_ I feel different! And he has no right! Fucking idiot!"

I wanted to shout my agreement, but, well.

Gradually, Malfoy's angry rants subsided into silent sobs. My, erm, pitiable enemy was crying himself to sleep. He took the teddy bear and buried his face in it. "You smell a lot less like her now," he told the teddy bear, "I don't like that." He put it aside again and pulled me into his arms instead.

I felt complete, somehow. It must be a stuffed dolphin thing. Stuffed animals are made for cuddling, so fulfilling that purpose must be the reason I feel content at the moment.

Although I didn't sense it, I knew the moment Malfoy breathed me in. "Hmm. Your owner has very strange taste in perfume. You smell... Musky."

That's because I don't have an owner who wears funny perfumes, Malfoy. I'm Harry Potter.

Malfoy soon fell asleep.

The next day was the first day of the term after Christmas break. People would soon notice my absence.

When Malfoy returned from the piano room that night, he had two more stuffed dolphins with him.

"Look what I found!" he told me brightly, before setting down my kin on the bed with me. To my great relief, I could hear them talking!

"Why couldn't you have just taken my word for it, Ron?" the she-dolphin yelled, frustration dripping from each word.

"How was I supposed to know it was cursed?" the other he-dolphin bit back, like a petulant child.

"Hermione? Ron?"

_**Author's Notes**_

_Well that escalated quickly._


	3. Harry is rescued

"Hermione? Ron?" I hoped with all my heart that they were here to rescue me.

"Harry!" both dolphins exclaimed in unison.

"We have really worried about you! Thought you upped and went holidaying on your own!" Ron confirmed my suspicion.

"Oh, darn it all! We've found you, but now we're all stuck like this!"

"What happened to you guys?"

"The same that's happened to you, it seems! Is this where you've been all through break?" Hermione asked.

"Well, yes," Ron groaned in frustration at this, "yes, Ron, I've been holidaying in Malfoy's bed all holiday. From the look of things, you're gonna be stuck the same way for, possibly, ever."

"Why? Why did you both have to touch that piano?" Hermione almost wailed this.

"How did you find that room?"

"We couldn't reach you all holiday, and you didn't show up even for Christmas, and then you weren't at classes or Gryffindor tower. My goodness, I should have suspected something much, much earlier!" Hermione smacked her forehead at this in her dolphin head, "when we finally decided to look for you, the Point Me spell lead us to the room with the piano."

"Why would it lead you there?"

"We honestly don't know. Are we seriously stuck like this forever?" I think Ron was pulling on his red hair as he said this, inside his dolphin head.

"You should have let _me_ do the spell!"

"It was supposed to be a simple spell!"

"And you should have listened to me and not touch the suspicious piano!"

"Guys, come on. We should be thinking of a way out of this! Wait. Why did you say the piano is suspicious?"

"It wasn't as dusty as the rest of the room," Hermione reasoned.

"Actually, that's just because Malfoy plays it habitually."

"What?" Hermione blurted out.

"So this is Malfoy's doing!" Ron accused.

"All evidence pointed to him, but in the last week I've had to shoot that down," I confessed.

"Why?" they chorused.

"Did you at least tell someone before you went to find me on your own?" I avoided the question.

"Yes, don't worry. They'll find us soon." Hermione was always the sensible one.

"They better. I can't handle any more of-"

I never heard what Ron couldn't handle any more of. Nott had once again let himself into the room. Malfoy was in the shower, and I hoped again that he won't come out.

"Guys, we need to fix this, now!" I announced desperately.

"How? Oof." Nott picked dolphin Hermione up and sat on the bed, reclining on the headboard. He placed her on his lap and stroked her absent-mindedly.

"Hands off my girlfriend, Nott!"

I could almost see Hermione squirming.

Malfoy exited the bathroom then. I would freeze if I wasn't already immotile. "NO!"

Thankfully, Malfoy had his wand. "Get out of my room, Nott."

"Did your dolphin spawned?" Nott drawled, waving airily over us.

Malfoy brandished his wand.

Nott raised both arms in surrender. "No need for that, I just want to talk."

"I have _nothing_ to say to you."

I silently urged Malfoy to hex him right then and there.

"Put it down, Draco."

Malfoy raised his wand. Attaboy.

"Accio, Theodore!" Malfoy shouted just as Nott reached for the teddy bear. It flew into Malfoy's hand. He clutched it closely to his chest.

Nott stood up then, frustrated and confused. "Theodore? You named your precious teddy bear after me yet still refuse to admit that you love me back?"

"Theodore isn't mine, it's not named after anyone, and I _don't_ love you. For you, Nott, I feel nothing but contempt. You're not even worth hating."

Malfoy still had his wand poised to hex him if he so much as flinched.

"Denial, Draco. What has that given you? You're miserable right now. No one else accepts you like I do. No one else could love you like I do!"

"Love? You don't do this to people you love! You're out of your mind, Nott! Now leave!"

Suddenly there were flashes of light, spells cast from either side of the room. My non-existent heart raced as I watched Nott disarm Malfoy and knocked him onto the ground. I could no longer see him from my place on the bed.

Nott walked over to him. I would scream my head off. I did scream, but only my fellow dolphins heard me.

Nott then sunk on his knees. I imagined him straddling Malfoy. This cannot be happening again.

He leaned over, and I could see no more.

"Maybe I never will understand, Draco. But I wish for once you would acknowledge my given name." His voice was slightly muffled, and I imagined him nuzzling into the nape of Malfoy's neck, breathing out the words close to his ear.

It was silent for a moment. "You only ever hurt me, Theodore. Please, just leave me be. Leave me to my misery."

"It hurts me to hurt you, but I really want to. So badly," I could almost hear him brush his lips on Malfoy's neck. His member was probably already pressing against him.

"Theodore, don't-" I heard Malfoy wince. I imagined Nott pressing one of his many bruises.

Nott sat up then. "There, that wasn't so difficult, was it?"

I thought I saw it wrongly, but Nott _did_ have tears in his eyes. "Fuck you, Malfoy. I'll see you around."

With that, he was gone. I cheered in silence.

I noticed Ron for what seemed like the first time, "Harry, what-"

"It's just as you heard. Nott let him go." For good, it seemed. I hoped so. Malfoy didn't seem like the enemy anymore.

That night, Malfoy talked to the teddy bear again, but it was different from usual.

"Now you really don't smell like her at all," he breathed in the teddy bear he had in his arms, "I'm forgetting the scent already without your help."

There was only silence as I watched him rearrange the fibres on Theodore.

"Nott decided to move on. I should too. After all," he curled further into himself, pulling the teddy bear closer to his face and whispered into its cottony ear, "you only ever hurt me, Theodore."

I heard no more that night.

Malfoy had classes for all of the next day. Hermione was stomping her feet in her dolphin head the whole time, muttering about missing classes.

Ron had been quiet up until now. "Harry, just what was that all about, last night?"

"It has nothing to do with us. Just leave it." I dismissed him, and I realised too that it was the truth. When we're found, and everything goes back to normal, Malfoy must go back to normal too. He must be Draco sodding Malfoy, arrogant Slytherin git.

But he cannot be, because I could not let him now. I've watched him for far too long, heard far too much, understood far too well. I simply cannot go back to regarding him as the enemy.

Malfoy came back that evening weary and pensive. I felt the slightest pang of concern in my cottony stuffing.

He was stroking the teddy bear again, in a different manner from usual. It looked like a parting stroke, if there ever was such a thing. He then did the same to dolphin Ron and dolphin Hermione. They _purred_ under his touch.

I knew it was a stuffed dolphin thing! For some time there, I had thought... Never mind! It _was_ a stuffed dolphin thing!

But when it was my turn, I wanted to do more than purr. I wanted to give him a particularly reassuring hug, to tell him that everything will be better after this, because I've got his back. I don't know how I was going to cover his back, being stuck as a stuffed dolphin for possibly forever, but it's a promise I felt I could make.

I will be there for you, Draco Malfoy, my former enemy.

He breathed me in again, I just knew it. "That's actually a nice smell." Momentarily, I ached for him to keep me forever.

He put us side by side on the bed, and took out his wand. When he waved it, I felt myself physically shrinking. He tucked us into a pocket in his outer robes, and sneaked out of Slytherin dungeon.

_**Author's Note**_

_Of course I'm gonna turn them back! :D _


	4. Now Malfoy needs rescuing

When I came to, I rejoiced that I was back to my previous size. But then I remembered that I was supposed to be even bigger. Alas, I am still Harry Potter stuck in stuffed dolphin form.

Malfoy had brought us back to the unused classroom with the piano in it, placing us on the wooden bench facing said piano. Was he going to turn us back? Was it his doing after all? But that cannot be, how _can_ it?

Malfoy sat at the piano again, talking to no one in particular.

"You told me once that this room was ours. That it was magical, that this thing," he played a short note on the piano, "would stay magical, as long as it was ours... But I'm alone, now."

Who was this person he cared so much about? Where were they now?

"I brought Theodore." He announced unnecessarily. "And I think I've got it now, the song."

He poised his fingers on the keys. My heart of cottony stuffing raced in anticipation of Malfoy's finale.

"If love is war, then let this be my last fight for you."

And his fingers began to dance on the keys.

It was a bittersweet melody, uplifting and calming, full of determination and anguish, almost giving up at times, but never did. Accusing, and then reassuring.

The ending, however, was like the sound of someone charging into battle, ready to die in it, and finally did.

But I couldn't be sure if it was really how it ended, or it was just that Malfoy decided to end it there. At any rate, it was over, and Malfoy had a numb look that hurt me more than his cries did.

"You're not coming back, are you? It's been three years, after all."

Malfoy stood up and walked to our wooden bench.

He stroked the teddy bear as he said, "I must accept that you're gone if I want to move on. But if I did that, would this place no longer be magical? Would the piano lose whatever magic you left in it?" Malfoy hugged the teddy bear again. "Goodbye, Smith. Please be gone in the morning."

With that said, Malfoy put the teddy bear down and left.

"That's it... Harry! Ron! I think I've got it!"

"What?"

"Malfoy's going to turn us back!"

"I don't get it," "Me neither."

"The piano! Malfoy's ex, or whoever! He said they told him it has magic! He said it would be gone if he gave up on them and moved on!"

"Oh, well then, that'll be soon! Malfoy also said it has only been three years since they ended!" Ron exclaimed sarcastically.

I think I remembered something else too. "He said 'please be gone in the morning'. Will he wake up accepting that they were definitely not coming back?"

"He has to! Ugh, we shouldn't have to wait that long to begin with! I thought the professors would have found us already! It's-"

But Hermione never finished that last remark, for in that instant, the room began to _swirl_.

I saw everything whirl and whirl before it became pitch black. For a second I thought I had passed out, but the pitch black, too, began to swirl and withdrew to a point. It concentrated into a corner of the room, and I gradually made out a distinct figure forming from the mass of black.

The next moment, two people emerged. One was an old man with a beard and 'stache, and streaks of midnight in his grey hair. His eyes were the fathomless pits into eternity and back.

The other was a cloaked figure, and I could not see the face beneath it. When I heard them speak, I decided that they were a young woman.

Hers was the voice of conquest from the shadows over battles between worlds, "why have you brought me here?"

The man spoke with a voice that would have outdone hers, if it wasn't laden with ages of struggle, "touch the walls if you must."

She did. "Hogwarts? I am supposed to be moving forward."

"You forgot one important rule to Travelling: no loose ends."

"It is not _my_ loose end!"

"It would _still_ be if you hadn't left it for your sister to clean up."

"I did no such thing!"

"You confided the wrong secret in the wrong man, and set a different course for the future of this realm."

"He didn't succeed with that secret!"

"It pointed him the right direction."

"You. You're just helping my sister in her mission."

"Of course I am. We cannot afford loose ends."

"I meant the mission to assassinate me!"

"I only serve the purpose of maintaining balance."

The room started swirling again, smoother and lighter this time. When another figure emerged from the blackness, the young woman had bolted out the door.

The newcomer was also cloaked, but smaller than the previous, with a voice to match. But that's not saying anything, because her voice held back something unfathomable and dark behind it.

"Hogwarts." she declared pointlessly. "A step backwards, why?"

"I made her."

The small one whirled around, apparently not expecting the other.

"I had to; you wouldn't come back on your own," the old man elaborated.

"I see no reason to."

"Ah, but you see, almost everything you do has exactly no reason behind them. Leaving here before it's time was one of the exceptions. You had a reason to leave," he held up a hand as she had opened her mouth to protest, "and it wasn't just to go after your sister."

He leaned forward then, meeting her eyes. "What were you running from, Smith?"

Smith. I _just_ heard that name before this.

When she refused to answer, the man drew up to his full height and announced, "You swore your allegiance to the Dark Lord, and you have served him well, except for one final assignment. Now is your last chance to finish it."

"If you can make a bait of my quarry, you can make a responsible one of her, too. Make her clean up her own mess."

"I've had her clean up yours in the past, now I'm just restoring the balance and making you return the favour. After all, you're the one with the Mark."

The small figure stiffened at this.

The man continued, "One loose end. What was your problem? Were you unable to identify the target? I've done that for you-"

"I knew the target."

A brief silence followed. "Draco Malfoy... What kind of person could he be, to affect you like this?"

"That's something you need not concern yourself with."

"You are ..._fond_ of this boy, then?" he said the word 'fond' like it was the darkest curse ever conceived.

"I'll take care of it. You have my word."

"Your word, as a Smith." his voice had dropped to a much lower tone, taking on the sound of binding oaths and a declaration that could only be obeyed, "You will take care of Draco Malfoy."

Everything was suddenly very still, as if the World was waiting for her affirmation.

"My word."

He unlatched the door and stood in the doorway, throwing his last words over his shoulder, "I'll smooth things out with the headmaster." And then he too walked out the door.

My eyes went back to the small figure cloaked in black. She walked to the piano and started playing it. It was the same tune that Malfoy had played earlier.

It hit me like a bag of bricks. This girl is the Smith person that Malfoy had been so miserable over losing. She has returned, but it seemed she had not come to take him back or anything like that.

She was here to take care of a loose end, and that loose end was Malfoy, whatever taking care of loose ends meant. And what was that about swearing allegiance to Voldemort? Malfoy should be safe with a fellow former Death Eater, right? Anyway, this small person cannot possibly... Just, no.

"Harry, what are we going to do?"

Hermione's voice seemed to stop the other girl's playing. We sat in lethal helplessness as she rose from her seat. She couldn't hear us, could she?

She hadn't. The girl let out a heart-wrenching scream and the piano _toppled over_, crashing into a mess of useless woodworks and metal chords on the stone floor with a deafening crash. She screamed again and fell on her knees, her magic coming off in violent waves and shattering the windows, shaking the walls and floors. Her last scream _detonated_ the already destroyed piano on the floor. I was only thankful that my friends and I could not be physically harmed in our dolphin confines.

She finally collapsed onto her side and began to cry.

I knew for sure now that she meant no harm for Malfoy, but I also knew that, like Nott, she still could.

_**Author's Note**_

_Erm… This is kind of getting out of hand. I have even less control over my OCs. Ah, well. You need not concern yourselves with my OCs' back-story, because the minute portion of it that does have anything to do at all with this story will be revealed. In fact, I don't think it really matters. It's just an excuse to get Harry to stick his nose into Malfoy's business. _

_Oh, the tune Malfoy plays on the piano is, as I was listening to it when I was typing this, titled "Love is War (piano version)", made famous by Vocaloids. You can go search for it on YouTube if you want. _


	5. Rescuing Malfoy is going to be tricky

The girl left before morning arrived. For the first time in weeks, I was Harry Potter again. We looked around the now-repaired room groggily for a few moments before coming to our senses and ran in the direction of the Headmaster's office.

We reached the corridor to Professor Dumbledore's office just as he was stepping into it.

"Professor!" I called out. He looked up briefly before continuing a conversation he seemed to have been engaged in before we interrupted. When we saw who he was talking to, we almost fell backwards. It was the old man from last night.

"Yes, I received your letter weeks ago, and had replied as soon as I was able. You shouldn't have come down here yourself, Soren."

"Oh, Albus. If only just to see you! It's been, what, centuries?"

The two old men then laughed heartily.

"It has felt like that, yes."

More laughter.

"And you still have children to send off to school!"

"My great-grandchild, Albus!"

They laughed again. I don't understand what was so funny.

This Soren is cohering with a girl who had sworn allegiance to Voldemort and they're only here to tie up a loose end they called Draco Malfoy. Nothing was funny about it all.

"It was good to see you again, Albus. But I see now I must leave you to your affairs," he gestured towards my friends and me, "as I have to attend to mine as well."

"Of course, of course. Good day, my old friend!"

"And to you!"

They hugged and parted, and I watched him warily as he passed by us.

"Mr. Potter! Mr. Weasley, and Ms. Granger! You have missed two whole days of classes! Where have you been?" Dumbledore called out.

We ran to meet him at the bottom of the spiralling stairs that led to his office.

"Please, sir, Ron and I have only missed one day of classes!"

"That's not important right now!" I had to voice out. "Professor, we think Malfoy might be in grave danger!"

"Why ever would you think that? Hold on, perhaps we should discuss this in my office."

The stair wound around and up, and when it stopped, we followed Dumbledore through the door into his office.

I was about to begin when Hermione spoke up.

"Please, sir. When we went to look for Harry the day before yesterday, Ron and I came across an enchanted piano that transfigured us into, well, inanimate objects when we touched it. We found Harry to have been stuck as such since just before Christmas break, and had no choice but to wait until someone comes for us. When someone finally entered the room, it was to discuss something about having sworn allegiance to Voldemort and taking care of a loose end. Sir, they said the loose end is Draco Malfoy!"

I was suddenly thankful that Hermione had stepped in when she did. I couldn't have explained it as coherently as she had.

After a brief silence, the headmaster spoke. "You are saying that some former Death Eaters have breached the castle security to discuss the assassination of a fellow former Death Eater?"

"Yes, sir," we answered, and Ron added, "but if you put that way…" he trailed off.

"Can you identify which former Death Eaters they were?" Dumbledore asked, his tone somewhere between seriousness and weariness.

Hermione was quick to answer again, "Actually, sir, it seemed that the one charged with the task of 'taking care' of Malfoy was the only one who had sworn allegiance with Voldemort. We can't say anything for sure about the second one, but the third man was..." she stopped and only looked from side to side between Ron and me.

I decided to tell Dumbledore what I saw. "The man really looked like Mr. Soren just now, sir."

Dumbledore sighed. "Perhaps the transfiguration has affected you in more ways than one, my dears. Hogwarts is safer than ever before, and moreover, I have known Mr. _Silversmith_ for as long as I can remember. He has recently relocated his trade back to its origin in Diagon Alley, and wishes for his ward to continue her studies here in Hogwarts. She was a student here before, too. Rest assured you have nothing to worry about. Now run along, your professors will want to see each of you."

I was about to protest again when Hermione held me back and mouthed "let's go first."

It was lunchtime in the Great Hall. After failing to convince Professor McGonagall about magical pianos, we decided to give up and to meekly accept all sentences from the remaining professors. I looked over to the Slytherin table in search of Malfoy. I found him staring at something invisible that was floating in the air. It was kind of sad, but at least he didn't have the blank look from last night.

I then noticed a small gathering of students at the other end of the Slytherin table. Hermione had her eyes fixed on this group.

I watched her curiously. "What is it, Hermione?"

Her squinted eyes widened then. "It _is_ her!"

"What are you talking about?" Ron piped up, following Hermione's line of sight.

In the middle of the group was a pale girl with dark hair. She seemed to be engaged in a normal conversation from where I was sitting.

"Who is it?"

"Abigail Silversmith! I saw her with Malfoy once in the library, and again at the Lake! I tutored her for a bit, too, up until she just didn't return after Christmas break in fourth year! Harry, Ron! Dumbledore's friend's name was Silversmith! Abigail is the ward he was talking about!"

"What's a ward?"

"Someone put under your care by the law."

"You were friends with her then?" Ron ventured to ask.

"And what do you mean, you saw her with Malfoy?" I don't think I like what this could mean.

"Not like that, Harry. She's two years below us." Hermione reassured me unknowingly.

Then my heart jumped to my mouth as I watch the Smith girl excused herself from her group and made her way towards Malfoy. Hermione jumped out of her seat and ran after her.

Merlin, what was she thinking?

Hermione managed to catch up with her before Malfoy could notice anything that was going on. I watched her pull Smith into a hug and started leading her out of the Great Hall, talking animatedly. Ron and I decided to follow them outside.

"Hermione, what are you doing?" I called out her, who was still talking with Smith. She looked up briefly only to beckon us to come join her.

Ron hesitated for a bit before joining us.

"I can't believe I never got to introduce you to each other properly in all of the two years Abigail was here!"

I tried to forget everything I saw and heard in the piano room last night and to greet Smith in as good a manner as was needed. When I saw in her eyes great barriers as I've only ever seen in Snape's before, I knew I had to try harder.

"Harry, Ron, Abigail. Abigail, Harry, Ron." Hermione gestured between us with one hand as she introduced us.

I shoved my hand forward. "Abigail. So you can call me Harry." I smiled easily.

"Walking your pets, Potter?" Malfoy's voice made me freeze. My friends and I spun around and tried to discreetly hide the Slytherin girl from his view.

"Yes, Malfoy, just minding my own business. You should too." I managed to add _at least_ a bit of venom in my tone.

"Oh, honestly!" Abigail managed to push past us then. I nearly fell to the floor from the tension of it all.

"Abigail, stay away from him!" Hermione tried to stop her.

She turned around briefly. "Really, Hermione? You _still_ won't put it past Malfoy?" Abigail rolled her eyes as she said this.

Malfoy was rooted to the floor, his lips slightly parted. He watched her, wide-eyed, as she approached him.

"How have you been, Malfoy?" Abigail asked him conversationally.

Malfoy only silently reached a tentative hand to touch hers. He held it in a firm grasp, basically staring at their joined hands in disbelief.

"You're back."

"I am."

"I thought you were gone for good."

"I was. But I guess I'm not fated to leave you an unfinished chapter." This remark unsettled me thoroughly.

"I haven't heard from you at all." Malfoy's pain was almost tangible.

"I owled you several times, but they kept getting sent back to me. I gave up trying. 'Guess I was too far away."

"Will you stay this time?"

She brought her other hand on their fixed hands. "Malfoy, look," a short pause, after which she released his hold on her hand, "I never come to stay."

"But for now, you're here."

"For now..."

Malfoy looked like he was all ready to burst into tears and hoist her into the air. I hoped with all my heart that she wouldn't go through with her task.

Hermione ignored the delicacy of that moment they were sharing. But of course, there were more pressing matters. Abigail must be stopped.

"Say, Abigail, let's catch up some time. Have you been to Hogsmeade?" Hermione practically squeezed herself in between the two Slytherins. Malfoy was too surprised by the defiance of it all to speak. I wanted to pat his back for the look on his face.

Abigail, however, lit up at the invitation. "I wasn't here long enough before for that! Yes, let's do that!" She actually clapped her hands.

"You're not invited though, Malfoy," Ron told him with a civility I've never before seen between them. Malfoy only gave him a look that said "as if!" in reply. He then took his fellow Slytherin's hand and led her in the direction of the dungeons.

When we got back to Gryffindor Tower, Ron was the first to speak. "Are you seriously going to go catch up with your Slytherin-pet-turned-assassin-Death Eater?" he yelled, utterly increduled.

"She _does_ care for Malfoy! We just need to make her remember that!" Hermione exclaimed.

But I knew what I saw. "You saw it too though, Hermione, what she did in the piano room. Their voices. She does remember, but have probably decided to do it anyway!"

"Yea. She gave that old man her word like it was an Unbreakable Vow." Ron added, and I thought he shuddered at his own words.

"We should tell Malfoy," I suggested.

"What? When even Dumbledore doesn't believe us?"

"So we try to win her over!"

Ron and I thought on this for a moment longer.

_**[Author's Notes]**_

_I must mention again that I never have my OCs getting romantically involved with the canon characters, so you need not worry about that. I hope I've managed to lay down in a coherent enough manner that part concerning the backstory of my OCs, otherwise, I assure, it doesn't matter. This story concerns Harry trying to save Malfoy. Hopefully they'll end up together, too. I've said before that I'm typing this up as I go. Nauseating randomness and/or cliches may or may not ensue. I don't intend them to, but I can't say for sure, having broken a few personal rules already. _


	6. Rescuing Malfoy, Take One

On Saturday afternoon, I found myself sitting across from Malfoy at a table in The Three Broomsticks who was sipping on a tall glass of butterbeer. Of course, Hermione and Ron were sitting at that same table to my right, and next to Malfoy was the reason he was even with us i.e. Abigail Silversmith, but his was the only presence I could pay any attention to.

Even as we were entering the pub earlier, Malfoy's white-blond hair was the very first thing I noticed. If Abigail hadn't coerced us into joining her fellow Slytherin at his table then, I probably would've done it myself. I've decided to blame this affinity to Malfoy on the cursed piano; if it wasn't for that atrocious thing, Malfoy would still be Draco sodding Malfoy, arrogant Slytherin git. Now it just felt like sixth year all over again. Fuck you, piano.

Except for Hermione and Abigail's catching up, our table was a dark blob of awkwardness amidst the warm and crowded pub. Ron was listening to the girls' conversation with more focus than he gave in classes, and would occasionally drop in a line or two. Malfoy had a hint of pink in his pale and pointy face that I know for a fact was never there before, and was glancing around the room uncomfortably between sips of butterbeer. Whereas I was… Oh Merlin, I was just staring at him shamelessly.

I drained my glass of butterbeer. Fuck you, piano.

It wasn't long until the awkwardness became too much to bear and we had to disperse, although not before receiving merit from McGonagall who had just arrived and had noticed the unlikeliest group of all seated in a corner of the pub.

Malfoy was absent from dinner one evening. I took a moment to notice that Abigail wasn't there, either. My heart then started hammering in my chest.

"Harry, can you do me a favour?" Hermione appeared out of nowhere.

"Hermione! Both Malfoy and Abigail aren't here!" I struggled to contain the panic in my voice.

Her eyes glanced over to the Slytherin table. "Well, I was going to meet up with Abigail in the library, but I forgot I have detention with Professor Vector after dinner. I was just asking if you wouldn't mind terribly going to the library and telling her I'm sorry for me."

I calmed down considerably. "Oh, so she's waiting for you in the library?"

"Yea, I decided to pick up our old arrangement and tutor her again," then she lowered her voice, "I don't know how we're gonna win her over, but we've got to."

I nodded. Hermione reminded me to bring my homework with me before we parted at the door.

When I arrived at the library, I caught again the sight of Malfoy's marvellous head of hair. I had to physically shake that last remark out of my head before I could remember why I was in the library. But I found Abigail sitting at the same table as Malfoy. I took a deep breath and marched forward.

"Abigail." I grabbed her attention from the parchment she was writing on. It took all my inner strength to ignore Malfoy, who had looked up at the sound of my voice.

"Oh, hello, Harry," she answered, giving me a polite smile. I noticed for the first time how small she really was.

"Hermione said she's sorry; she'd forgotten about her detention with Professor Vector after dinner," I paused, and added as an afterthought, "so I told her I could come in her stead."

I just really wanted to get Malfoy away from her. Perhaps my presence there would suffice to make it happen.

Abigail's tone was still polite, "I see you've brought your homework. Perhaps you two can collaborate on it?" she gestured between Malfoy and me.

I gritted my teeth to stop my jaw from dropping.

"Ha ha, that's hilarious, Smith," Malfoy's nonchalant tone seemed to ease me a bit, "I'm getting an early night." He gathered up his things and left.

I couldn't stop myself from eyeing his retreating back.

"Shame. That would've been fun to watch," her voice pulled me back into the library.

In the next few minutes, I began to wonder what Hermione could be tutoring her on. Abigail wasn't falling behind in any of her subjects. In fact, she understood them better than I did when I was in her year. Soon my attention was entirely on my own assignments.

I rolled up the last of my parchments before turning my attention back to Abigail. She noticed and said, "I just have a few more inches to go. You don't have to stay. Thank you, Harry."

I had wanted to excuse myself earlier, but something stopped me. As I watched her do her homework on a large piece of parchment, writing with a tall quill, it seemed to me like she had become much smaller in the last week. If I hadn't been in the unused room with the cursed piano when she had basically destroyed it with pure magic, I would never have believed that this small person had sworn allegiance to Voldemort and that she had returned to her old school for an assassination.

So I told her, "it's alright, I want to stay. In case you need any more help with that," before proceeding to pretend to read a boring-looking book she had on the table.

It was almost maddening how deceiving her appearances could be. From where I was sitting, Abigail was an easily impressed, harmless little girl who spoke politely and had a healthy thirst for knowledge. Were sixth-years always that childlike?

I blinked. It suddenly occurred to me. She was doing magic! She was projecting a false image of herself to steer away attention from the young witch who had taken up the Dark Mark and had come here to murder her once best friend! I mean, a lot of people, all the time, pretend to be someone they're not, but the way Abigail was doing it was something else. Her mask was so readily acceptable.

I watched her even more closely, hoping I would catch a glimpse of the face that might have been beneath the cloak that night in the piano room, perhaps a younger version of those eyes that were the fathomless pits into eternity and back?

A few moments later, she abruptly stopped writing. I had to stop myself from clutching my chest.

"Say, Harry," her voice held no detectable emotion.

I only hummed, fearing I might stutter or slur my response otherwise.

"Have you ever broken a promise?"

I almost sighed in great relief. I barely hid my grin as I lied, "Yeah. I felt bad about it, sure, but eventually things just worked themselves out, and then it didn't even matter," for I could not, at that moment, recall on such a thing. If I had thought on it a moment longer, I would find something like it anyway, surely.

When she spoke again, I thought I saw the weight of the World resting on her shoulders. "In our House, one of the most important rules is to promise only what you're prepared to deliver. We must consider absolutely _everything_ before we give anyone our word."

I didn't have enough time to consider this to give any reply before she cleared her throat and said that she was grateful for my help and bid me a good evening.

So either Malfoy dies, or she will. What is it with these purebloods and their stupid rules?

Later when I told Ron and Hermione about our session in the library, Hermione's first remark was "I don't think it's a stupid rule. It's a very sound principle that everyone should have. It doesn't say much about you if you're one to break the promises you make."

Meanwhile, our plan to win over the Death Eater assassin had all but failed. Hermione was unbelievable sometimes.

"Come on, guys. Do you _really _think Abigail could _murder _someone?" Ron, too, was unbelievable sometimes. I mean, he was right there with us in the piano room that night.

In the end, we decided to keep at it anyway and try to convince Abigail that she absolutely did not want to kill her once best friend in the name of a vanquished Dark Lord.

_**[Author's Notes] **_

_Oh, I am so sleep-deprived right now. Head, meet desk._

_Same with previous chapters, I just typed this one up as I go. Disregard all mistakes, if you please. _


	7. Rescuing Malfoy, Take Two

Later in the night, I was sitting on my bed with the curtains closed again, watching two dots labelled "Draco Malfoy" and "Abigail Silversmith" leaving Slytherin dungeon together on the Marauder's Map. They were headed for the piano room past curfew, a place and time that I had heard Malfoy refer to as "their hideout" several times before. I knew they were headed there, because I've been watching them like this every night, and I've seen them do this twice before. I couldn't be sure of what they were doing in there, in the dead of night, or even how I felt about it all. I decided to do something about it this time around.

I peeked out of my curtains and found the room quite still and silent; my roommates have all gone to sleep. I climbed out of bed and fetched the Invisibility Cloak from my trunk before tiptoeing out of Gryffindor tower.

I reached the corridor outside of the room at the same time they did. Feeling safe under my Cloak, I followed them into their hideout. Once inside, I walked to the side of the room that had no wooden bench in it. Malfoy closed the door behind us and cast a silencing charm on it.

Her voice still held no detectable emotion when she spoke, "To be honest, Malfoy, I miss the time when we were friends during the night, and complete strangers during the day."

Malfoy gave a small laugh before responding, "what? So now _you're _ashamed of being seen with me. Maybe we'll take turns with that."

She disregarded him and moved to stare out a window. Malfoy stayed by the door, watching her all the way. They were silent for a few moments.

He soon joined her at the window. "I don't want to miss saying goodbye when you leave again. In the last few years, there were times when I really believed you never existed. Like you were a companion that I had made up to cope with, well, you know."

She turned to look at him. "I wish I had made you up."

Malfoy looked at her with furrowed eyebrows. "Why do you say that?"

"For all we know, I probably did. I'm really good at making stuff up, and your hair," she reached up and touched his hair, "is of a shade I only ever see in made-up characters."

He gave her a half smile. "Now I think you're just avoiding my question."

She moved her hand from his head to his shoulder, then down to his left arm. Malfoy tensed up when she touched his forearm. I instantly sensed that everyone in the room knew what was hidden under the sleeve.

"I just suck at being there for people. I must be the most disappointing friend you ever had." I felt that she meant to convince him of it.

Malfoy shook his arm from her hold. "Nothing anyone could've done about it. Anyway, Voldemort's gone now. It's all in the past, just leave it there."

Abigail shrugged. "Funny thing about the past, Malfoy; some things could find their way back to you. Old friends, old enemies, old promises."

I reached for my wand, ready to do whatever would become necessary.

"And that's why we don't make promises that we can't keep," Malfoy reminded her.

"I'm a Silversmith, Malfoy. There are no promises that we can't keep. We make them, we keep them, or we die."

I tightened the hold on my wand.

Malfoy placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him, bowing to meet her eyes. "Promise me this then: come back to me one day."

"No."

"Don't leave, then?"

"No."

"Promise me… anything?"

She seemed to consider it for a moment. "Shall we exchange promises?"

Malfoy searched her eyes before asking, "What can I promise you?"

"Oh, I don't know. Stop being miserable? Get some proper sleep some time? Make better friends? Confess your feelings to a certain boy who-"

"Basically make a promise that I most probably can't keep?"

"No, just one that is slightly more difficult than others," she smiled brightly.

"And what will you promise me?"

"I'll let you have your proper goodbye before I leave; one that would probably put you out of your misery."

I struggled to stay hidden. My wand was already trained to blast her into oblivion.

Malfoy sighed. "I give up. I'll just stick to you and watch you disappear before my very eyes. You will not sneak out of my world when I'm not looking for the second time, Smith," he mock-threatened her before turning around and moved to sit at the piano. Abigail only smiled, eyes cast down. Was that sadness I saw?

Malfoy struck several tentative chords on the piano. She walked over to watch him. She put a hand on the piano.

"You can do fine without our friendship, can't you?"

Malfoy considered her for a bit. "You were always somewhat weird, but tonight it's something else."

"It's nothing. I just noticed that my magic in your piano is all gone."

"Of course. You have been gone for three years."

"It was supposed to stay in the piano as long as this place was ours."

"Well, it is, once again. What kind of magic was it anyway?"

"Just a silly protection from intruders."

"Oh, we had intruders, alright. Someone left a few stuffed dolphins in this room the other day." Malfoy then looked over to the wooden bench and then around the room. "And came and picked them up again, evidently."

An unprecedented emotion had flashed across Abigail's face at the mention of the stuffed dolphins, but she recovered with just a blink of her eyes. "Oh? Stuffed dolphins? Why would anyone have more than one of those?"

Malfoy shrugged again, "I guess they're kind of nice to cuddle with."

A smile, unbidden, found its way to his pale face. I unconsciously mirrored it.

But then I saw that Abigail was now _thinking _about something, and I had a strong feeling that she was thinking about the dolphins.

About Hermione, Ron, and myself.

Are we now another loose end to the Death Eater assassin?

When I finally returned to lying in my bed that night, I couldn't help but think back on something Abigail had said to Malfoy that had nothing to do with me at all: she had told him to "confess his feelings to a certain boy who"… Who?

Merlin, I have a Death Eater coming after my best friends' and my blood, but all I cared to think about as I fell asleep was the, for reasons unknown, relieving fact that Malfoy and Abigail were never the item I had thought them to be, and that Malfoy was in fact harbouring feelings for some other guy.

The next morning, before heading down to the Great Hall for breakfast, I pulled Ron and Hermione aside and explained to them how Abigail was now onto us.

"What are we going to do if she finds out that we were the dolphins?" at any other time, I think I might have laughed at Ron's question.

What are we going to do indeed. I turned to Hermione to find her looking worriedly between me and Ron. I turned to Ron and was surprised to find the calculating look on his face. I was once again reminded of how mature he had become since the war, and why he and Hermione managed to stay together.

But the illusion was almost shattered by his announcement. "We're going to confront her."

"Jumping into things like that was how we nearly got ourselves killed a few times before!" Hermione almost smacked him on the head.

"Well, what did _you_ come up with?" he asked us defensively.

I honestly could not think straight anymore, so I held my silence. Hermione did too.

"I'm not saying we go charging into Slytherin dungeon with wands drawn or anything like that. And really, first of all, we don't even know for sure that they mean to _kill_ Malfoy. Abigail never said so, and neither had that old man with the scary eyes. Taking care of a loose end could mean anything at this point."

I mentally smacked my forehead. Hermione only urged him to continue with his train of thoughts. "How are we doing this then?"

Ron brought a hand to his chin. By Godric, the NEWTs were really taking a toll on us. Hermione's asking Ron for a plan and he might actually come up with one, and I was obsessing over Malfoy like it was sixth year all over again.

"I better have my breakfast first." Ron announced in the end.

* * *

_**[Author's Notes]**_

_By Salazar, what's going on here?!_


	8. Confronting the enemy

As lessons concluded the next day, we've decided on a plan. We were going tell Abigail that it was us who had been in the piano room, that we had unintentionally overheard the discussion she had with the old man, and that we were going to protect Malfoy from whatever she had been tasked with, regardless of whether or not he deserved it.

We were going to do it in a public setting, where there would be other wizards and witches capable of defence against the dark arts present should the whole affair go south.

As Hermione had another tutoring session with her in the library tonight, we were also going to execute this plan then.

Hermione showed up to meet Abigail at the library that night with Ron and myself on her either side. Malfoy's absence at the table where she was sitting would've been a relief if there weren't three other Slytherins there in his stead. We exchanged looks that said '_now_ what are we going to do?' before squaring our shoulders and approached the Slytherin quartet.

Hermione was the first to speak, again, "Hello, Abigail. I guess it's going to be a little more crowded tonight." All four Slytherins looked up from their reading.

"Oh, you're here. Sorry about this, but they're only staying for a bit more. Please, sit."

I had to suppress a grin as I realised that the table was now shared between seventh-year Gryffindors and sixth-year Slytherins. Sure we each took up either end of the table, but that's still more than what Hogwarts has seen in centuries.

After my friends and I have settled down, Abigail checked herself. "Oh, sorry. These are my classmates: this is Hilde Weller," she gestured to the ghost-pale girl with long dark hair to her left.

"Weller, if you please," she said with a small nod. For a Slytherin who was being introduced to a group of Gryffindors, the girl was unnaturally polite.

"This is Samara Rutledge," she indicated the short-haired girl to her right.

"You can call me Sam. Everybody does." I realised that I had only _mistaken_ her for a Slytherin; Samara Rutledge was in fact a Gryffindor. I've seen her before, among the students lounging about in Gryffindor common room.

"And that's Rigel," she nodded at the last Slytherin sitting next to Sam who had dark hair and eyes that were reminiscent of the night sky, and whose gender I could not be sure of.

"I was named after a star, because my half-blood father wishes he was a pureblood like the Blacks."

Sam laughed at this blatant show of disrespect. My friends and I almost did, too.

"Did I just make a joke, imbecile?"

I failed to suppress a chuckle while Sam only laughed some more before Weller shushed her and reminded her that we were in the library.

"And I'm sure everybody knows who you are," Abigail concluded the introduction with a smile.

Rigel extended a hand to Hermione, saying, "big fan, Ms. Granger."

She took it and blushed. "Er, thank you."

As no more was said between us in the next five minutes until Abigail's friends left, I never found out for sure whether the one called Rigel was a boy or a girl. But now that we had Abigail alone, it didn't matter.

Hermione began the confrontation, "Abigail, we actually have something to talk to you about…" but she trailed off and looked between Ron and me again.

Ron sighed, and I knew that he was going to simply throw it out there. Abigail regarded him with a questioning look.

"We were in the room, you know, when you were talking with that old man."

Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and Ron took this to mean that she needed further explanation. "We were the dolphins."

It was a clear enough explanation for Abigail; the comprehension was plain on her face. "So you _have _been trying to pull me away from Malfoy," she stated simply.

Well, we couldn't have been more discreet about it, but we were Gryffindors, and Gryffindors weren't known for being discreet.

"That wasn't what we were trying to do," Hermione's reply confused me a little. Weren't we trying to keep Malfoy safe from her?

"I was talking to Harry."

I recoiled at the address. My friends looked at me in slight confusion. We shrugged it off and Hermione turned back to Abigail.

"We don't want you to go through with the task. We were trying to convince you that you don't have to."

"And if we fail to, and you're still going to hurt Malfoy, well, we're not going to just stand by and watch," even after talking this over earlier, it still surprised me to hear these words uttered by Ron.

I felt sadness emanating from Abigail as she shook her head slightly. "I gave my word. I'll do it even if I don't want to."

I felt that she wasn't saying so to warn us, that it was said more to convince herself than anything. Her eyes rested on the wood of the table, but they were glazed over and she wasn't entirely with us in that moment.

I dared myself to touch her hand, which lay limp on the table and barely held her quill anymore, and brought her back to the library.

She blinked and her eyes darted to where I was touching her. She withdrew her hand and stood up, almost making me fall backwards from standing up so fast. My hand had already found its way in the pocket that held my wand. I noticed that both Ron and Hermione had reacted similarly, and that we now had the attention of everyone else in the library. It was so quiet that I could _feel_ the gentle footsteps that were now approaching our table. I turned to find that it was Malfoy. How long had he been in the library?

"What's going on here? Smith?" Malfoy asked in a hushed tone. He looked between the four of us with an unreadable expression on his face.

Abigail avoided everyone's eye contact as she hastily gathered up her books and parchments and quill and stuffed them into her book bag. "We were just saying goodnight."

Hermione almost reached out a hand to stop her. "Abigail…"

"So, erm, goodnight. Thanks," her lips were quivering and her eyes watery. She turned and practically ran out of the library, and when Malfoy chased after her, my friends and I abruptly followed after them.

"Smith!" Malfoy called out to her.

She threw her words over her shoulder, still running, "I just remembered something, I'll see you later!"

As she disappeared around a corner, Malfoy turned towards us. I saw fury in his eyes.

"What happened in there?" his voice shook in anger as he pointed at the door to the library a few feet behind us.

"Nothing!" Ron lied, and Malfoy grabbed the front of his shirt in response. Ron lost himself in that instant and returned the gesture in kind.

"Nothing, you say?" he was almost screaming.

Hermione and I were pulling them off of each other in a flash. We each grabbed one of them from behind. I couldn't hear the words Hermione was hissing into Ron's ear, but they did their job and Ron let go of Malfoy. I however had to use more force to pull Malfoy back; his anger was giving him a strength that his thin build couldn't have had.

I managed to pull him off soon enough, but suddenly I felt a surge of pain on the side of my head, and I was knocked onto the cold stone floor.

"Leave off Draco, you swine!" I registered the voice of Theodore Nott despite my throbbing head.

I had to blink hard and shook my head. When I could see properly again, I looked up to find Ron exchanging blows with Nott. Hermione was yelling at them to stop and even Malfoy appeared to be shocked at the bizzare turn of events.

I got back on my feet and pulled out my wand. "Levicorpus!"

The two contenders were swiftly hoisted by their ankles into the air. "This was just a misunderstanding!" They took a moment to recollect themselves. Hermione mouthed 'good job, Harry' and I muttered the counter-spell. They both fell into a heap on the floor.

I helped Ron onto his feet while Malfoy attended to Nott. "Let's go before anyone sees."

Someone grabbed my hand and I whirled around to meet Malfoy's grey eyes. They were stern and determined, and had momentarily paralysed me.

"What happened in the library between you and Smith?" he was looking at me so intensely that I felt like I could not escape him with just more lies.

"You should ask her. But bring your wand." This evidently confused Malfoy thoroughly.

He let go of my hand nonetheless, leaving a tingling sensation where our skins had touched.

The sensation bothered me more than the bruise on my cheekbone did when I awoke the next morning.

* * *

_**[Author's Notes] **_

_Alas, randomness did ensue. Le sigh~_

_Nobody is a bad guy in my story, not even Nott after what he did to Malfoy. Oh, so much inner turmoil going on inside of everyone! Seriously, what the spell is going on here?_


	9. Confronted by a former enemy

One day at lunch, I was discussing a group assignment with Luna when someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around to find that it was Malfoy. I probably imagined it, but all sounds from the people in our immediate area seemed to have died down. I reflected the uncertainty in his face as we regarded each other.

"I want to ask you about Smith. Can we talk?" Malfoy eventually managed what he had come into Gryffindor territory to say.

I took a moment to collect myself before replying, "er, okay," and stood up to follow him out of the Great Hall, pretending not to notice the looks some of the other students were giving me …us? I shook minutely and belatedly remembered to excuse myself from Luna.

Once outside, Malfoy whirled around, uncharacteristically blurting out his next words, "she's avoiding me, purposefully. I can't get anything out of her, and I didn't get anything out of her, well, Slytherin friends. Potter, tell me what's going on with Smith."

I was not surprised by this, erm, outburst of sorts because I had pretty much spent the last couple of days watching the dot marked "Abigail Silversmith" dodging the one marked "Draco Malfoy" at every possible encounter on the Marauder's Map. When I shared this observation with Ron and Hermione, the latter had foreseen that Malfoy would soon approach _us _for answers, and rightly so, what with the fact that we actually had those answers. It was just that it wasn't any of our business to begin with.

I had also realised some other things in the last few days: 1. I had actually meant that silent promise I had made to 'be there for my former enemy, Draco Malfoy'; 2. it was blatantly obvious that Abigail refused to go through with the task of killing her once best friend 3. I would have done a better job of 'winning her over' and keeping my promise if I had been more perceptive of the aforementioned fact; and 4. My trying to pull the two apart had not helped with the plan to 'win Abigail over' because it had been for another reason entirely, one that I dare not admit outside of my head just yet.

Of course, I was not going to tell him any of these things. Instead, having already considered the possibility of Malfoy coming to my friends and me for answers, we had prepared for him what we thought would be the most appropriate answer for _us_ to give him.

"Well," I began, and took a deep intake of breath, "she kept talking about making and keeping promises and got somewhat upset whenever she did. Hermione reckons she had made, for what seemed to be the first time in her life, a promise that she could not keep and this upsets her."

Even though that was _almost_ the entire truth, I had expected Malfoy to wave it off as more lies or silly notions, and, initially, he had looked like he was about to do so. But as I concluded, I saw Malfoy knit his thin eyebrows together in reflection. Abigail must have behaved similarly in front him, too, before she finally decided to simply avoid him.

"But then why is she avoiding _me_?" he asked, confused and hurt and miserable. Again I wanted to pat his back for the look on his face. I couldn't believe how open he was with his feelings even as I stood there. _Especially _because I was there. I guessed their friendship was a good thing for him because now he was more human than I ever saw him.

"We never exchanged those promises," he said quietly to himself.

Once again, I knew what Malfoy was referring to, having been in the room with them when they were talking about exchanging promises. I remembered that Abigail was going to promise him a proper goodbye, and now I wondered if it could have meant anything else than what I had thought it did.

One would think I had grown out of jumping to my own conclusions.

I observed Malfoy, and perhaps it was my imagination again, but there was a pleading look in his face, and I was suddenly ashamed of myself.

There was nothing for it, I simply found myself saying, "I'll talk to her for you," and added belatedly, "if you want."

That was weird. Was it not weird? I was simply offering my help to talk to Draco Malfoy's once best friend for him. It wasn't weird at all, because that person happened to be a mutual friend. Sort of.

Indeed, maybe if I started regarding Abigail as an actual friend, I might have done a better job of talking her out of keeping that ridiculous promise.

I decided then that it didn't matter whether or not Malfoy was going to appreciate the gesture; I was going to talk to Abigail, properly, and throw all presumptions off of the Astronomy Tower before I do.

Presently, Malfoy was looking at me with a question mark on his face. Metaphorically speaking.

"Oh. Thanks, Potter," he finally said. "And, urm, I'm sorry about the other night. You know, when Nott," he merely raised a hand to indicate the now-healed bruise on my cheekbone, where Nott had punched me. Oh, shit, he was so close, I might just lean in and let his hand touch my face.

I stopped myself and nodded instead, and, not wanting it to turn awkward, hastily made my way back into the Great Hall.

I was met with expectant looks from my friends before I even sat down.

"Well, you were right. He wanted to know what's up with Abigail," I told Hermione, shrugging.

"You did remember not to tell him more than we agreed to tell him, didn't you?" she asked in reply.

"Of course," I hesitated before continuing, "and I said I'll talk to her for him."

Hermione put on an indignant look. Ron almost choked on a sandwich and had to punch his chest before saying, "we can't confront her a second time! I think she wants to talk to us much less than she wants to face Malfoy these days!"

"I'm saying we go talk to her _properly_, not _confront_ her a second time!" I declared desperately. "She's clearly upset, and it looks like we're the only ones she _can_ talk about this thing to…" and suddenly, finally, the sadness that Abigail had carried around and out of everyone's notice reached me. If the looks on their faces was any indication, Ron and Hermione also shared this realisation. I looked down at my plate, ashamed yet again.

The opportunity to talk to Abigail came the very next day, as Professor Binns concluded his lesson. I rarely kept the Marauder's Map hidden in my trunk nowadays, having taken it upon myself to observe Malfoy's movements at every chance I get. At the moment, I was watching Abigail's dot on the Map leaving the castle. It was headed for the Black Lake. I looked over to Ron and Hermione, nodding. They nodded back in comprehension.

We filed out of the classroom and broke away from the rest of our classmates, heading in the opposite direction towards the entrance hall. My friends and I were determined to do it right this time.

* * *

_**[Author's Notes]**_

_There you go, another raw, un-beta-ed chapter. I'm sorry it's so short this time. I'm currently writing up the next chapter though. As I'm not bothering to edit any part of this story, it should be up soon. _

_I had expected questions on the apparent inconsistencies in this story, like why Smith is a sixth-year when Hermione had earlier said that she was two years below them. But I guess none of us could be bothered with those things :P (But still, leave a review at your leisure). _


	10. Malfoy didn't need rescuing after all

Abigail had seated herself under a birch tree, facing the body of water. She leaned back against the bark of the tree, her pale neck exposed to the warmth of the sun and her eyes closed in apparent tranquillity. Even as we came closer, she remained in that position, and her voice revealed nothing more nor less of her tranquillity when she said, "oh, kill me now," by way of greeting us.

"We come in peace," Ron spoke first, as he was the one least affected by his guilt.

"Can we join you?" I requested, making it sound less like one as we weren't taking no for an answer.

She gave no responses in the negative, so we settled ourselves down on the grass around her. Hermione seated herself shoulder-to-shoulder with Abigail under the tree. "I've missed hanging out with you. Not just recently, but, the last few years, too."

Hermione had earlier cautioned us not to press her into 'the big talk' if we were going to do this the right way, so Ron and I only sat there and waited.

"So did I. There aren't many properly intelligent people who care to talk to me."

It was silent for a moment. Ron soon decided to move to Hermione's side and rested his head on her lap. Abigail's apparent peacefulness was getting to me, too, and I decided to lay in the grass at her other side.

I heard Abigail sigh as if in defeat. Finally, she spoke, "when it was found that the prolonged use of silverware would poison the body, my family's trade almost went bankrupt."

I was confused at this, and I was sure Ron and Hermione were too, but we decided to just stay quiet and listen.

"My grandfather saved the business with his ground-breaking found. He formulated a coating that eradicated the poisoning problem entirely. It was then decided that the occasional research should benefit us greatly. By the time my father inherited Silvercraft, it was thought there wasn't much he could do to bring the company any further; it was already quite successful.

"But, it my opinion, he was the most accomplished of us Silversmiths. He crafted the most beautiful works of art I've ever seen, and he was very generous about his knowledge and skill at crafting silverware. Before anything else, I was taught to use magic to craft silver, my father mentoring me on it alongside my mother. I remember how fascinated she was with it.

"But she wanted to take it further, and she sought for and found other uses for it. Dark uses. She became obsessed. Her last contribution to the field had been an unfinished research on one such use, before she became mad and fell off a cliff."

My eyes snapped open, and I looked up at her then with furrowed eyebrows. Ron had blurted out, "what?" in disbelief, and Hermione had stopped in the middle of stroking his hair.

"Just checking if you had fallen asleep."

If she hadn't sounded so serious, I might have laughed. We went back to listening with our eyes closed.

"But she did die leaving an uncompleted study on something not strictly light magic. At least it wasn't, before my father took it upon himself. I guess I could say that he turned her Dark Arts work into something more like Defence Against The Dark Arts. It was this last bequeath of my family's legacy that finally got me into this puddle of Troll bogies."

I felt her shifted, and looked up again to find her finally opening her eyes. Her blank, lightless eyes.

I propped myself up on one arm, trying to listen closer. We were all looking at her now.

"You asked where I've been the last few years, Hermione," she stated, observing something in the grass before her.

"Yes?" Hermione urged her to continue.

"My parent's final collaboration had caught some unwanted attention. It was my big-mouthed sister's fault. My father was forced to flee, and I wasn't safe anywhere but with him. But as it turned out, I wasn't safe anywhere, period.

"They caught us. We managed to go as far as halfway around the world but they caught us."

I couldn't stop the onslaught of memories of the conversation in the piano room, particularly the part about her having sworn allegiance to Voldemort. I was going to ask who 'they' were, but decided that she was going to tell us if we just keep listening. I straightened up as Ron and Hermione did the same.

Steadily, Abigail brought her arms forward and pulled back her left sleeve. It was not a sight that we hadn't expected, but we still couldn't help gasping at it.

Abigail bore the Dark Mark.

"It doesn't matter where I've been the last few years, Hermione. This is all I have going for me, and I know better than most what this Mark is doing to Malfoy. Which is why I'm going to assure you one last time: I don't make promises that I can't keep."

There was a moment of silence, during which the tension built up to an unbearable degree. I was not shocked to hear myself screaming, "BUT YOU WILL _NOT_ KEEP THIS ONE!"

Abigail responded with a look of utter incredulity on her face. I noted that that was the most emotion I've yet seen her manifest, and I actually deflated a little.

She found her voice quite quickly, "now _that's _what confused me; why you were all so eager to 'stop me'." She actually indicated the quotation marks around 'stop me'.

"It's because it's not right!" Hermione spoke up.

"Because it's wrong!" Ron had voiced at the same time.

Abigail held up both hands, her Mark glaring at us where her sleeve had been rolled up.

"No. It's either because you know more about my task than I do, or that you have got the wrong idea."

I blinked. I blinked again. It took a while for her remark to start making any sense at all to me. After a few minutes, it made complete sense, and my friends and I seemed to be shaken out of our stupor as it did.

We never did found out what her task that involved Malfoy was, exactly. Until now.

"Here, I'll show you."

Abigail took up her wand and touched its tip to her Mark. She muttered something before pulling the wand from her skin. To our amazement, the Dark Mark was pulled off with it, now glittering silver on the tip of her wand. She flicked and sent the silvery thing crashing onto the grass.

It only bounced back from the ground and onto her forearm, and simply turned back to how it was before. I frowned, not understanding.

"If I had flicked it on another's Dark Mark, mine would pick it up like a magnet of sorts and I end up bearing both the Marks, while the other is free to get on with their life. My father used to call what we were doing as 'harvesting' Dark Marks."

I realised that that was all very well and everything, but "why did Voldemort have Death Eaters who harvest Dark Marks?"

Abigail blinked at me curiously before I saw comprehension dawn on her face.

"My father was performing darker tasks than this for the Dark Lord, obviously, Harry. This was something he did without the Dark Lord's consent. I stayed by his side the whole time, learning how he did it. In his deathbed, he assured me that the Dark Lord will perish, and that's when I promised him that his personal mission will be seen through. I am going to harvest all the Dark Marks."

Hermione mused aloud, "so one loose end… One last target… You've come back for Malfoy's…"

"That's actually …brilliant." Ron finally broke his silence.

"Yea, bearing the Dark Mark doesn't work in favour of oneself anymore these days. They actually never did. I don't want that for Malfoy. I'm going to give him his second chance. That's why… I'm going to see this through."

It _was_ actually brilliant. But Abigail seemed nothing else than absolutely dejected at the prospect of it all. I could only make guesses, so I did.

"What are the side effects?"

Abigail looked up at me then, smiling sadly. I didn't think it was possible to look sad while smiling, but that's how she looked at me.

"They fell ill, afterwards, mostly. But only for a few days."

I had to press on. There had to be better reasons for her feeling so conflicted about the task. "And?"

"And when they wake up, they didn't remember ever having met the harvester at all."

I thought on this a moment longer.

When Abigail had fulfilled her promise, Malfoy would be rid of his Dark Mark. People would eventually stop saying things about him behind his back, or to his face for that matter, and would stop trying to send him off to Azkaban. People would stop discriminating against him for the Mark. Malfoy would eventually, finally, find his place in the new world.

Malfoy would also forget all those things I had heard him tell Theodore the teddy bear: about a friend he had met during the earlier days of his darker life, from whom he had learnt that it was alright to admit having weaknesses, in whom he had found a companionship truer and more sincere than his other friends.

What other friends did he have than Abigail? That Theodore Nott was beyond horrible.

So Abigail would consent to losing that friendship, to give Malfoy his second chance.

And now I understood why there were no promises she made that she won't keep.

* * *

_**[Author's Notes] **_

_I got lazy towards the middle. Hence lengthy monologue from my OC. I never liked doing that. But meh. _


	11. What happened during potions

We remained in our places on the grass, trying to process everything that Abigail had just told us. I couldn't help but think that her decision to keep her promise was ultimately a selfish one.

I mean, sure, if it had been _my _task and I was meant to 'save' either Ron or Hermione or both, I'd do it. But then I thought what if it had been Ron's or Hermione's task to _'save' me_? I would rather carry the Dark Mark throughout my life than lose all the memories I had shared with them!

To Hell with that promise, this was not anyone's but Malfoy's decision to make!

Hermione was the first to break out of her reverie. "Okay let's see if I'm getting this right: when Malfoy's rid of the Mark, he'll also be rid of his memories of _you_ or just memories of the, erm, harvest itself?"

Abigail smiled that sad smile again. "I've said that they didn't remember ever having met the harvester at all."

"But you weren't as close to those Death Eaters than you are with Malfoy, right?"

Abigail didn't answer immediately. She looked into the distance and sighed. "Since the Dark Lord's downfall, you can just imagine how many chances I've had to perfect the technique, trying to 'work out the bugs', so to speak. I always knew I was going to be the one who harvests Malfoy's Mark, so…" she trailed off, shook her head, and concluded, "There's no way around it."

"Maybe you can pretend to be someone else when you're doing the, erm, harvesting?" Ron suggested.

I was going to say that that might actually work, but Abigail shot it down. "It's a more complicated magic than that, Ron; I've tried that and it didn't work."

Hermione raised a hand to rest on Abigail's shoulder, consoling her. "I guess you could always just start over with Malfoy or something."

"I'm not staying, Hermione."

I couldn't take it anymore. "You're being selfish! This is _Malfoy's _life you're making decisions for! At the very least, you should tell him about this whole Dark Mark thing! You're his friend, aren't you?"

She was unaffected by my outburst. I watched her stand back up on her feet with surprising calm before she turned around to say, "I am many things, and a good friend is not one of them." She then regarded us with a meaningful look. "Perhaps he has yet made such friends."

"If you won't tell Malfoy, I will!" I threatened her. I hadn't meant to, but she was just impossible!

In no time at all, she had immobilised me. I sensed that she had done the same to Ron and Hermione, but there was no way to tell for sure. At any rate, none of us made a move to counter her.

"Then you will leave me no choice but to _hurt _him for it. I _can _do that, you know." She raised her wand and released me then, intentionally letting her Mark peer at me as she did. "Please, don't do anything stupid."

Having been caught off my guard just now, I couldn't say anything to that and just let her go.

But didn't Slytherins know better than to ask that of a Gryffindor? Hah! Like I was going to let her empty threats get to me. I was going to tell Malfoy everything the very next chance I get.

Wait, maybe not _absolutely_ everything. I wasn't ready yet.

'The very next chance' became more and more impossible over the next few days. NEWTs were looming in closer, demanding much more than there was of me. Hermione had all but sold her soul to it, and even Ron had taken to bringing his notes to the Great Hall for meals. No, really, he actually read those notes. This didn't help my nerves at all. To top it off, I always had my days occupied, and got too exhausted by the end of them to stay up perusing the Marauder's Map. I could only hope that Abigail keeps delaying her final task until I get the chance to talk to Malfoy again.

As if in answer to my prayers, Neville botched up our potion so severely one afternoon that Professor Slughorn had to have the class replaced on the next day. The replacement class was to be held together with the Syltherins' usual class. Once it ends, I would take Malfoy aside and tell him about Abigail's task. If I had known that ruining a potion was all it was going to take, I would have purposefully melted my cauldron well before this week.

The dungeon room we used for Potions this time was bigger and better ventilated. I noticed the improvement immediately, and wondered why we didn't use this classroom for Potions all the time. Neville and I settled ourselves down at the table behind Ron and Hermione's.

Professor Slughorn was in front of the class, consulting his pocket watch. "I'm sure I've informed them about the change of venue…"

A door at the opposite side from where we had entered the class then swung open, and the Slytherins began filing in. Neville and I started unpacking our potions ingredients onto our table.

"You're in my seat, Longbottom!" an irritated voice suddenly spoke from beside me. I turned to see a slightly dishevelled Malfoy shoving Neville out of his seat. Nott, who I guessed was his potions partner, was watching with a face that probably mirrored my own. Neville was too taken aback to give any response.

"Er, Draco, maybe that wasn't entirely called for-" Nott began, but Malfoy must have glared at them with such fierceness that Nott actually started tugging at Neville's sleeve and pulled him away to another table. Neville barely had time to recover all his things. I started packing up my stuff, too, but was stopped by Malfoy. "What are you doing? Sit down."

By Salazar, NEWTs was taking its toll on Malfoy, too.

Professor Slughorn had started the lesson with a few notes on the board. I sat back down and returned my attention to Malfoy.

"So you talked to Abigail." He began with a statement.

I hadn't fully recovered from my surprise, so my reply was not as swift as I would have it. "Yea, a few days ago. What, she's still not talking to you?"

Malfoy shook his head. "Doesn't help that we have NEWTs to study for."

"Alright over here?" Professor Slughorn was now doing his first round of the class.

"Yes, sir." We answered in unison.

I watched the professor walk over to the next table while Malfoy squinted at the board. "Great. Now my eyes are going."

I gave Malfoy a smile before turning to the board. I picked up my textbook and flipped it open to the page that was indicated on the board. I then placed the book between Malfoy and myself on the table.

He ran a long finger over the list of ingredients as I watched. "Fuck me, I've run out of belladonna. Have you got enough for three full measures?"

Of all of the curse words he could use, he just had to go for that one. "Err…" I surveyed the mess I had laid out on my side of the table and found the glass phial that contained said ingredient. I held it out to Malfoy, but he only looked at it before giving me a raised eyebrow.

"Oh." I caught myself and unstopped the phial. I prayed to whoever would listen that I wasn't blushing as I measured out its contents into a beaker.

Malfoy was shaking his head slightly. "Humph."

I watched out of the corner of my eye as he dumped something into his mortar and pestle and began crushing it.

"What did you find out?"

"What?"

"From Abigail."

The book said we needed one measure of shrivelfigs for the potion. I didn't have enough. "Have you got half a measure of shrivelfigs?"

"Huh? Oh, erm… Here."

"Into the cauldron."

Malfoy wouldn't take my word for it; he checked with the book before adding the shrivelfigs into the cauldron. I rolled my eyes.

He didn't approve of that. "What?"

"I can read the instructions as well as you can, you know."

"I wouldn't know that."

I sighed. I moved on to the next instruction. It said we needed root of aconite. I searched for the wrinkly brown root amongst the mess on my side of the table. I had three of those, and I took the smallest of them in one hand. I compared the sizes of the roots.

Wait, did it say we needed a small one, or a medium one? I reached for the book with my free hand, still comparing the sizes of the roots. I touched something that was decidedly not made of paper.

I whipped my head around to find Malfoy retrieving his hand from where it was resting over the book. From where I had touched it.

"Sorry," I offered, praying again that my embarrassment would go unnoticed.

"It's fine." Oh, Merlin, he was blushing. "I mean, no! I mean," he wisely shut up and started cutting something up instead.

I couldn't help grinning. He didn't approve of that, either.

"What are you so pleased about?"

I grinned wider. This was fun. "You."

He stopped cutting the whatever-it-was and raised the blade in his hand at me. "Get back to work!"

I did as I was told, chuckling.

"And you haven't answered my question: what did you find out from Abigail?"

I was just picking up a bottle of infusion of wormwood, having read the instruction to do so. The cramming I did in the past couple of days was not letting me follow two separate trains of thought simultaneously.

"Erm… Oh, she's not upset _with _you, but it is something about you."

"What is it?"

The mixture was supposed to have turned green by now. Perhaps it had something to do with the bottle in my hand.

"Malfoy, right now is really not the best time to talk about it. Let's finish brewing this potion first."

He peered into the cauldron, and then looked over the book again. "Oh, yes. Right."

Forty minutes later, the atmosphere in the Potions classroom had changed to the familiar hot and stuffy one. I've always hated high-heat potions. Sweat was starting to break out and trickle down the side of my face. I shed my outer robes in defeat.

"Alright, now we 'leave it to brew for half an hour'," Malfoy read the last instruction from part one aloud, waving his wand over the cauldron.

After a short delay, the heat was getting to him, too. I watched him shrug off his outer robes and undo the top button of his shirt. "I hate high-heat potions," he told no one in particular. He wiped off the moisture on his forehead with the back of his hand. My eyes followed the hand as it moved from his face down to his neck. Malfoy pressed the back of his fingers on his throat before bringing the hand to the back of his neck.

On second thought, maybe just this once, I loved high-heat potions.

If he would just stop being so dazzling, I mightn't be so distracted all the time and maybe, just maybe, I could even tell him everything.

"So how about now? Can you tell me now? We have half an hour."

"W- What?" I blurted out.

I saw his lips tighten and his hands balled into fists. "Why are you so distracted all the time?" he asked, slowly, in suppressed frustration.

"My higher brain functions seem to be eluding me at the moment. Allow me a minute." I managed to draw out a small laugh from him with that. Thank you, Hermione.

Malfoy checked himself then and cleared his throat. "What did Abigail tell you?"

"Well, um…" I suddenly found it difficult to begin. "Erm, what do you already know?"

"I don't know! Look, did you or didn't you talk to her?"

"I did!"

"Then?"

"I… She…" Merlin's pointed hat, this was _not_ my secret to tell.

Wait a minute! Did Abigail do something else than immobilise us that day? That's impossible!

"So she didn't tell you anything. I've been lured here under false pretences."

"What? I didn't lure _you_ here!"

Fortunately, Professor Slughorn was now doing his second round of the class. "Are you boys doing alright? How's your potion? Let's see… Excellent, excellent! Nothing less than I had expected from you, Harry!"

His disregard of the former Death Eater was not lost on either of us. And then the professor moved on to the next table.

I really didn't want this, whatever it was, with Malfoy to end. I tried to get the words out as best as I could.

"She promised to do something for someone, something that would hurt herself and you, too, in a way. She's torn between having to keep that promise and hurting you."

"What is it? What did she promise who?"

I felt my heart constricted, and I knew I could reveal no more. "It's really not my story to tell, Malfoy. I think… No, I have faith that she'll let you know when she's ready. Look, I'm really sorry."

Malfoy had already stopped listening to me. He was looking pensive and somewhat sad again.

"Malfoy?"

He didn't respond. I wish I could simply resign to having things go back to the way they were before, but no. I had dared to hope, and now I was not going to just give up.

"No, _I'm_ sorry, Potter. This really had nothing to do with you from the very beginning."

Dare I say it? Yes. Not a Gryffindor for nothing. "No, you don't have to apologise. I made it my business."

Malfoy gave me a face. His 'what the heck' face.

"I'll do whatever I damn well please, Malfoy," I said, shrugging.

He stifled a laugh, and had to resort to grinning.

Phew, I almost died.

* * *

_**[Author's Notes] **_

_I got really bored with the plot, so here, have the proper Drarry fluff of sorts. I've just been __**aching **__to reach this scene. I can't wait to have my OC out of this place already. _

_I too am facing exams, a fact I shall present as the excuse to the absurdity of this entire story!_


	12. What happened at breakfast

The days that followed were just Time passing us by, mercilessly so. One morning, I woke up to find that there was only one more week before the first NEWT. As I went by my usual morning routine, I became increasingly aware of this urgency inside of me, telling me I was running out of time.

Time to do what, exactly, I couldn't put my finger on it. To study for the exam? Every one of us were already giving it our all to revise, the mounting pressure was nearing eruption. The library was always full, and Madam Pince had had it open for longer into the night than usual. Discipline within and between the four Houses – at least among the returning seventh years – was better than it had been in all the years I've spent as a Hogwarts student, what with everyone so determined to prepare for this first real threat in their lives since the Second Wizarding War to bother with petty House rivalries. Even Hermione, Ron and I now spoke less to each other for fear of either of us exploding in the others' faces.

Maybe my subconscious was urging me to try again and tell Malfoy about Abigail's harvesting business? This annoyed me immensely because there was no way I could do it now that Abigail had my tongue tied up from spilling her secrets to her once best friend whom she's about to betray. What exactly did she do to me that day at the Lake? She must've done _something_ to me because the one time I managed to talk to Malfoy, I couldn't bring myself to actually tell him. _And it wasn't any of my business to begin with! _

Perhaps the prospect of graduating and going separate ways from my friends was the reason I felt like I was running out of time. Time to enjoy the company of my first and best friends growing up, time to relish in the (comparatively) carefree life of a student, time to fully immerse myself in the magic that was Hogwarts, my own haven, the only place where I ever felt wanted, my home.

Something started bubbling in my chest and pricking at my eyes as this last thought blasted its way into my overworked brain at breakfast. I cursed under my breath and suppressed the urge to turn in my seat and squeeze my best friend Ron.

Fucking NEWT and its tolls. Surely graduating wasn't going to be the end of our friendship! There was no need to be so melodramatic about it. It won't be the same, I reckoned, but we would go on to do other things together. Hopefully nothing like racing against Voldemort-Quirrel to the Philosopher's Stone, or going into the deep bowels of Hogwarts to rescue a possessed younger sister, or travelling back in time to save my very soul, or breaking into the Ministry of Magic only to fall into a trap, or like Horcrux-hunting of the last year, or fighting in a war… Well, I've had enough adventures to last me a lifetime.

So the urgency was not in spending time with my friends. We'll always be the best of friends. Graduating Hogwarts together was only going to attest to that.

"Harry, mate, are you okay? You kind of zoned out there for a bit," Ron was saying now, his cheeks full of food. Some things never change.

"Yeah. I'm okay."

Ron put a hand over my shoulder and squeezed slightly and I wished he hadn't, because NEWT was seriously feeding my emotional drive. I turned my head to get it to think about something else, and I caught sight of Malfoy.

He was sitting with his back to the Gryffindor table, his blond hair only a little mussed. I couldn't see his face, but in my mind's eye it was pinched in concentration over the piece of parchment he appeared to be writing on. At times, he looked up from it, turning slightly and with a slender hand touching his chin and lower lip, he contemplated his next sentence. Once or twice he tilted his head a little to the side and held the hand against his forehead before he slowly ran his pale fingers through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes. As imperative as it was for us to study for the upcoming exam, I couldn't help but worry over how bony those fingers looked and how he was pouring over that roll of parchment instead of having breakfast. Couldn't he have put that away for later?

As if in answer to my thoughts, a small girl with dark hair walked over to him. I watched with narrowed eyes as she tapped him on the shoulder. Malfoy turned and appeared surprised to see Abigail acknowledging his existence again. She reached over and took up his quill and parchment before pulling a plate of omelette towards him. Then she went back to her seat …at the Gryffindor table?

I watched her settle into the seat next to the short-haired girl Abigail had introduced to my friends and me once, Samara Rutledge. Or Sam, as she had told us to call her. I brought my attention back to Malfoy.

I turned just in time to see him scowl at her before he proceeded to butcher a plate of omelette.

I took a moment to ponder what emotion NEWT was currently feeding into my drive. Slytherins must be a bunch of pretentious gits. At least Abigail has to be one, because there it was right in front me, a blatant show of concern for a friend whom she had sworn to leave and take away with her his memories of their friendship. Sure, Malfoy will be free of the Mark and whatever it entailed, but when I think about what would become of me if I had lost Ron or Hermione in that way… I mean, I didn't see his other friends looking after his well-being. Why wasn't that Theodore Nott around to make sure Malfoy eats his breakfast if he cared for him at all?

As I ignored Hermione's complaints about Neville being nowhere to be found when he had promised revising Herbology with her, I slowly realised that after Malfoy was rid of the Mark, along with any reason to be talking to me – the last two occasions in which we did had been because of Abigail – after this week and the next, after we graduate, then I would never see him like this again, or just never see him again, period.

The sense of urgency swelled up inside me then, and I almost had a panic attack that morning at breakfast.

I was running out of time to tell him that… Fuck. I need Draco Malfoy in my life, always.

* * *

_**[Author's Notes]**_

_I am currently facing exams, probably why I'm finally typing this up. This is probably the last update until I'm done exam-ing and holiday-ing. While I'm only typing up this story as I go, I actually have the entirety of it quite thought out, except for the telling of it. And now I'm getting reeeaallly bored with it, and just want to type it out and end it as soon as possible. _

_Damn exams._

_(Yes, that there is a hint of Nott/Neville, kill me.)_


	13. What happened after dinner

It was towards the start of Christmas break, and I was walking down this deserted corridor when I saw Malfoy a little ways ahead, stepping out of an unused classroom. He had the look on his face that made me want to pat him on the back. He didn't see me, and went away in the other direction. I kept walking down the corridor after him, and glanced at the shape of a piano in the room as I passed by the doorway that Malfoy had just stepped through. At least, the pile of upset woodwork on the floor looked like it might have been a piano once.

I continued down the corridor, and noticed that it was getting dark. Much too dark. With a dread, I realised that I had walked right past curfew. It was an impolite thing to do, so I took a few steps back to apologise. But it was already gone to the past, and I couldn't do more than just try to find my way back to Gryffindor tower in the dark.

A moment later, I was stopped in my tracks by the sounds of stones scraping against each other. Apparently I had ended up in the dungeon while trying to apologise to curfew.

Malfoy emerged from the passageway before it rearranged itself back into a stretch of wall.

"I hope there's a good reason you called me out of bed, Potter."

Oh, yes, I came here to tell him about the former Death Eater who's out to get him.

But just as I opened my mouth to speak, Abigail's voice ringed out throughout the hallways, resounding in my head, "HARRY! YOU DID NOT!"

She appeared behind me and shoved me aside. I hit the floor, hard, and couldn't move quick enough to stop her from leading Malfoy by the left arm out of the dungeon.

Someone held out their hand to me. I took it and let it help myself up. I muttered my thanks and tried to go after Malfoy and Abigail. But I felt a hand on my shoulder, stopping me gently, and I turned to look into a pair of eyes that were the fathomless pits into eternity and back.

"Rest assured you have nothing to worry about," came his aged voice.

I shook his hand off my shoulder and tried to go after Malfoy again. I heard him call my name, in a different voice.

"Harry, wake up."

I opened my eyes, and they were met with an unfamiliar pair of brown eyes.

Samara Rutledge, no, Sam had both hands on my shoulders. She removed them to adjust my glasses before plopping down next to me on the couch.

I tried to remember why I was alone with the sixth-year in Gryffindor common room. Briefly, I even thought that I was still dreaming. Eventually I remembered telling Ron to go on ahead to bed before deciding to take a short nap in the middle of my reading. But then there were several other students there at the time.

"How long was I asleep?"

"Oh? I guess since I had been watching you sleep the whole time, it's naturally expected of me to know the answer to that."

My brain was slow to process this. I tried to scoot away without her realising. She noticed and snickered.

"I just got here, Harry. Thought that perhaps you'd prefer to continue sleeping upstairs."

I sigh escaped my lips. She burst out laughing. "I'm sorry! Your face! Priceless!" she breathed out between fits of laughter.

"Be quiet. You're waking everyone up." I told her, starting to feel annoyed.

She didn't quiet down as quickly as I had hoped, but her laughter died down soon enough.

Her voice still had a hint of laughter, "sorry," a sigh, "I thought you'd be used to people staring at you, you know, being you."

"Not while I'm asleep, I think. What are you doing here? What time is it?"

I noticed she had a wristwatch, but she didn't check it before answering me. I assumed that it hadn't been long since she last did.

"Two in the morning. I couldn't go back to sleep."

I considered going back to sleep and started gathering up my things, which lay scattered around me on the couch and the floor.

"Say, Harry? Are you guys, I mean, friends with Smith?"

I regarded her briefly. Her face was a blank.

"I guess so."

"I mean, does she tell you stuff? Like why she left the first time, and why she's leaving here again?"

I realised I wasn't sure about the latter, and wondered whether I had the right idea about the former.

"Not everything, I guess."

She turned from me then, humming slightly.

A thought occurred to me. "Why do you call her 'Smith'? I thought you were best friends or something."

"It's short for Silversmith."

"No, I mean, why not 'Abigail'? That's friendlier, right?"

Sam shrugged. "We like 'Smith'."

"We?" I blinked, slightly confused.

"If you remember, I mean, we as in Weller, Rigel, myself, and Smith."

I nodded mutely.

I felt the beginnings of a drowse, and proceeded to pick up the last of my things and excused myself from Sam.

As I lay in bed later, falling back into sleep, I faintly remembered to ask her if Malfoy could be one of 'we', and whether the one called Rigel was a boy or a girl.

I woke up late the next morning, panicking a little before I remembered that it was Sunday. A sudden movement to my left then took me by surprise; Ron had just threw his covers aside and jumped out of bed.

"It's Sunday," I told him.

Ron seemed confused as he swung his head from side to side. "Oh. Sunday," he sighed and stretched, yawning.

"You were up really late last night. I heard you come in."

"I'm sorry if I woke you. And I fell asleep downstairs for a bit, actually."

I couldn't remember my dream from last night, but I did remember the one I had before that girl Sam woke me. I was again plagued with the need to tell Malfoy about Abigail.

So after I got ready, I retrieved the Marauder's Map from my trunk. Ron was watching me with his face slightly pinched in concern.

"What are you doing?" he asked, moving to look at the map over my shoulder.

"I don't think Abigail is going to tell Malfoy anything. She's going to harvest his Dark Mark and disappear from his life, completely."

Ron sighed. "Look, Harry."

I felt irritation creeping up on me. I breathed in deeper to quell it before turning to look at Ron. "What?"

He seemed to search my face for something before he spoke again. "Before, when we thought Malfoy's life was in danger, I guess it made sense to stick our noses in. But we know better now, and the truth is that this thing with Malfoy and Abigail has nothing to do with us."

"I know that, but don't you also feel that it's all wrong? How would you like it if I obliviated you and then gone on my merry way?"

"No, I get that, it's just that… I mean, it's just Malfoy. Argh, I mean, how do I say this?"

I watched him struggle with himself for a bit before he continued. "I get the feeling that you're just using Abigail as an excuse to talk to Malfoy, or something…"

That was only partially true, because in the end it did matter to me what Abigail's task might do to Malfoy's sanity. So I didn't justify it with an answer, and continued to search for Malfoy on the Map. Ron eventually gave up and left the room.

Malfoy spent most of today in his room. At least, that's where he was whenever I pulled the Map out to check on him. Currently, however, he was finally heading towards the Great Hall for dinner.

There were only a few people left in the Great Hall now. Dumbledore and McGonagall were the only teachers still sitting at the high table. I ate my pudding as slowly as possible to drag out my stay. Malfoy was sitting across from Zabini at the Slytherin table, facing the windows. When it looked like he was about to leave, I jumped out of my seat and went to wait for him outside.

"Malfoy," I called to his back.

He turned then, his expression becoming unsure. "Potter?"

Uncertainty started building me up inside me, too. I couldn't understand why I was so nervous.

"There's something you need to know."

Malfoy furrowed his eyebrows and shifted a little. My heart started hammering inside my chest. What spell, exactly, did Abigail use on me that day to keep my mouth shut? I guessed I was about to find out.

I felt the words on the tip of my tongue, but I never got them out, because in that instant, I heard Abigail's voice.

It all happened faster than I could follow.

"Harry. You did not." She hadn't screamed them this time, but the words reached me as surely as they did in my dream last night.

I turned around to find her walking briskly in our direction. She had her wand out. "Stupefy!"

I couldn't respond quickly enough, and I was thrown a few feet to the side.

Her voice resounded in the hall. "Expelliarmus!"

Malfoy's wand was in the air. She caught it in her left hand, and I saw her Mark, silver against the skin of her forearm. She did it all while still making her way towards Malfoy. Once she was close enough, she grabbed his left arm.

She was going to do it, right then and there. I struggled to get back up, but found that my whole body was shaking. In the corner of my eye, I thought I could see Dumbledore and McGonagall hurrying over from the Great Hall.

Abigail pulled the sleeve up, her Mark sliding over his. Malfoy sunk to his knees.

"I asked you not to do anything stupid!" her voice was raw with emotion. I realised then that she was openly crying.

Still unsteady, I forced myself up and moved as fast as my legs could go.

Malfoy was trying to get her arm off of his with his other hand. Their fingers whitened. "Smith!"

I finally reached them, and I wound both arms around her middle, and pulled her back.

I felt her slack under my grip, heard her wand drop to the floor, and watched her arm slide down Malfoy's.

The skin on his forearm was pale and, now, flawless. He collapsed to the floor and Abigail was paralysed in my arms; they were both unconscious.

I had failed.

Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall appeared, and Time seemed to assume its normal speed again.

McGonagall was bent over Malfoy. She checked his arm for his pulse. "Oh, dear." She dropped his arm and moved to touch his forehead.

I was still sitting on the floor, holding an unconscious Abigail. Her breathing was so slow, I almost believed that she had died.

A Slytherin prefect suddenly appeared next to me. They looked Abigail over and reached a hand to pull her left sleeve back down, hiding the last and darkest of Dark Marks from view again. I looked at them and found eyes that were reminiscent of the night sky resting on mine. Rigel's gaze seemed to be warning me to keep quiet.

I realised then that the rest of the Great Hall had poured into the entrance hall, and I caught whispers of my name and Malfoy's from the surrounding students.

McGonagall told everyone to leave. Her stern voice was faint in my ears.

"Are you alright, Harry?" Dumbledore's voice reached me. I only nodded mutely. Someone suggested taking the two motionless students up to the hospital wing.

The Slytherin prefect, Rigel, pulled Abigail out of my embrace. I heard her mumble a protest, and instinctively looked to Malfoy. He was waking up too. I sighed my relief.

Zabini and I held Malfoy between us as we made our way to the hospital wing.

We settled Malfoy onto a bed where he fell into unconsciousness again. I watched Rigel set a very still Abigail down on the bed next to Malfoy's. Was she smaller than before?

I stood observing Madam Pomfrey as she fussed over the two and soon found my voice again. "Will they be okay?"

A hand came up to squeeze my shoulder gently. I turned and found faded-blue eyes. "Yes, Harry, Poppy here will get them up and about again in no time. Now run along and get some rest. Rest assured you have nothing to worry about."

* * *

_**[Author's Notes]**_

_Because I had just finished my second test. _

_Oh god, you could almost see Boredom seeping out from in between the lines. But hey, the story is moving forward! As bored as I am with it, I'll be damned if I don't finish this. Walalala!_


	14. A visit to the hospital wing

I had never been more grateful for revision week. The week off of class right before the first NEWT gave students ample time for the last of our preparations, and for those of us who hadn't been working quite as hard as they should – though I doubt there were many – this week was their last chance. However, I was grateful for a different reason; it was because I would have time to visit Malfoy and Abigail at the hospital wing. Well, I would be visiting both of them under the pretences of visiting just one of them, that is. And that meant visiting just Abigail, because it made more sense.

But as my friends and I made our way up to the hospital wing, I couldn't help feeling, well, a little miffed. What had Abigail meant when she said "I asked you not to do anything stupid"? What, it was somehow _my _fault? I didn't see how it c_ould _be my fault.

We reached the hospital wing and I was somewhat taken aback; I hadn't expected to see other people there, much less that many people. Granted, there were only seven Slytherins in total, but at first it had looked like a small gathering of Slytherins collected around the two beds. I tried to ignore Nott and Blaise at Malfoy's side and approached the Slytherin quartet next to them.

"Hello," Sam greeted us, and I realised that I had mistaken her for another random Slytherin, again. Her two companions at Abigail's bed were Rigel and Weller.

Hermione was, as always, the first to speak. "She hasn't woken up? At all?" she asked the group in general, but reached over and gave Abigail a gentle shake without waiting for an answer.

Weller only shook her head slightly, Sam less so, but Rigel took Hermione's hand from the sleeping form of Abigail. "We'd like to have her around for a little more, if you don't mind."

Ron's face was already the same colour as his hair, but his tone remained calm, "she wasn't trying to kill your little girlfriend."

Rigel smirked. "So possessive."

Hermione took a hold of Ron's arm while Weller grabbed Rigel's shoulder. "Stand down, Rigel, she's taken."

Rigel's smirk abruptly turned to a confused frown, dark eyebrows furrowed at the pale girl. "What are you…? I wasn't-"

"Anyway, we were actually just leaving," Weller announced, and she nodded at us before turning to leave.

Rigel looked displeased. "I wasn't flirting with her," the words were hissed at Sam, who was giggling uncontrollably. They made Hermione blush.

Sam quieted down just enough to convey her next words to us, "No, Rigel really wasn't. That's just how Rigel is. Weller's right though; we were just leaving," Sam then went on her way.

"If you don't terribly mind, Potter, a word," Rigel's address then took me by surprise. I followed the dark-haired Slytherin outside.

"You saw her mark." It was a statement. I wondered if it was how Slytherins traditionally start a conversation.

"I did."

"What did she tell you about it?"

"Enough, I think," saying this out loud plagued me with uncertainty.

Rigel nodded. "She intends to leave immediately after, well… I assume she means to do so as soon as she wakes up. So, don't try to wake her just yet."

I nodded back, fully understanding. "You didn't have to take me aside, you know. Ron and Hermione know."

Rigel frowned. "I didn't know we were telling bloody everyone," the words were said to no one in particular.

Rigel then left with a small bow before I could come to a firm decision to ask whether they were a boy or a girl.

As I made my way back to Abigail's bedside, Malfoy's visitors went on their way out. I was greeted back with a question from Hermione.

"Rigel is a girl, right?" she asked, eyes searching for the ambiguous character behind me.

"_He_ was definitely flirting with you," Ron fumed.

Then Abigail's voice took us by surprise, "keep it down, you …typical Gryffindors."

"Abigail!" Hermione moved in to hug the bedridden girl, but the latter held up a hand to stop her.

"Don't, please, and keep it down." She pressed the heel of her palm to her temple.

I leaned over to touch her other hand. "Sorry, we will. Go back to sleep, now."

"Where's my wand?"

I didn't know what I expected. "You know, I thought Rigel was being overdramatic when he, erm, she said you're leaving the moment you wake up."

"Rigel is not a- Whatever. My wand." She searched the bedside table, then under her covers. She then tried to summon it.

"Hey, take it easy-" Ron began, but didn't finish. Footsteps were heading towards us, and we turned to find the last person we expected to meet again: the old man from the piano room, Mr. Silversmith.

"My dear! Oh, I just heard!" He was swift to reach her side, and I automatically stepped aside.

"Keep it down!" she yelled in desperation, startling the old man. My friends and I then proceeded to just stand there awkwardly.

"Sorry," she mumbled, checking herself. "My wand?" she asked her patron. He actually shrugged.

Madam Pomfrey then appeared. "What's going on here? Please, don't disturb the patient."

"No, it's fine, ma'am, I'm sorry." Abigail seemed to have regained more of her usual demeanour by this time.

"Oh, you're awake. Here, let me just make a quick check-" the matron then proceeded to draw the curtains around her bed and shoo us out of the way.

I was, to say the least, unsure about staying there to wait with this Mr. Silversmith around, but then the old man took the opportunity to check on the occupant of the bed next to his ward's, Draco Malfoy.

I remembered how he had expressed his disapproval of Abigail's _fondness_ for him, and decided to remain in the hospital wing for a bit more. Ron and Hermione seemed to be on the same train of thought as I was.

Ever since his arrival he has taken no notice of us. We watched him warily as he visually inspected Malfoy, taking particular interest in his bandaged left arm. He slowly lifted a hand to touch the bandaged arm, and my fingers tightened around the wood of my wand without my even realising. I was on the verge of throwing curses at the man before he abruptly turned away to return to Abigail's side.

We received another surprise when we see Malfoy Sr. arriving at the hospital at that moment. He was accompanied by Professor Slughorn. Mr. Silversmith turned to greet them, pretending he hadn't just been scrutinising Malfoy's son. It was quite infuriating.

They began talking and I tried to listen in.

"We came as soon as we heard. What happened?" It was Lucius Malfoy's voice.

"We're not sure, we haven't been able to ask; he hasn't woken up yet." Professor Slughorn answered him.

"But it's been a whole day. Oh, Mr. Silversmith, why are you here, too?"

"My ward, I don't know what happened either. She just woke up."

Madam Pomfrey emerged from behind Abigail's curtains. Everyone spontaneously stopped what they were doing and turned to her. Her first words were for the oldest man in the room, "she will see you now."

I looked to her, hesitant, and she gave me a small shake of her head. "Not yet, Potter. Just wait a bit more." She then went to check on Malfoy. He was still unconscious.

In silent agreement, my friends and I moved to the other side of Abigail's bed to eavesdrop on their conversation from behind the curtain.

"Drop the ridiculous charade, _sir_. It doesn't become you."

"You've put me in a good mood after all. I've never been more proud of you."

"My wand, then."

"It's like you don't know me at all, Smith-"

"I don't."

"-you know I wouldn't want to keep you from your mission; why would I take your wand?"

"It just seems like something you would do. You never make things easy."

"No, but it seems like something Dumbledore would do."

A pause and then, "Dumbledore has my wand? Why would he-"

"Just for safekeeping. Anyway, the entire Malfoy clan is here; remember that Lucius doesn't know you anymore either, so, stay down. And lastly, congratulations, you took less time than I had expected."

"It was Harry's fault. I was going to graduate before I do anything."

"You were going to wait that long? Well, thank this Harry for me. But what has he got to do with any of this?"

I didn't want to admit it, but I was starting to cheer the old man on.

"Just him being a meddling Gryffindor. In fact, he's probably listening in on us right now."

My friends and I were taken aback for the nth time that day. We stopped our intrusion immediately and went to stand back a few steps.

Mr. Silversmith reappeared a few moments later. He bade Mr. Malfoy and Professor Slughorn goodbye and was gone from the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey went back to Abigail before removing the curtains around her bed again. My friends and I took it as a sign that she would now see us.

"So, how are you feeling, Abigail?"

"Just fine, Hermione, thank you. Yourselves?"

I decided to have the pleasantries out of the way and spoke my mind. "Why did you _have _to do it?" I said it in a harsh whisper, so as not to be heard by anyone else than the four of us.

"Are we going to keep going back and forth on this?" she asked back, almost rolling her eyes.

It was Ron who answered her, "Fine. But what's this we hear about you leaving again? At least wait until Malfoy wakes up or something." We were all whispering now.

"Oh, you don't have to worry about that; Dumbledore's sure to keep me here a bit more than necessary," she answered.

"Longer than necessary? Dumbledore? I don't think I follow," Hermione admitted.

"You were listening in just now, weren't you? He's got my wand, I can't leave without it. My father has probably arranged it with him so that I stayed behind to see if I had actually succeeded."

"You mean, Dumbledore knows? About your mission?" And even as I asked the question, I realised I already knew the answer.

"Of course he does. He knows everything. How else were we able to 'infiltrate' Hogwart's defences? It's the safest place in this realm, headed by the greatest wizard of all time. We needed his help if anything was going to work out."

Yes, of course. The piano room being accessible for their Apparition, Abigail getting transferred, him assuring my friends and me not to worry like nothing was wrong; all these unconventional things wouldn't happen without him being 'in on it'.

"But, you father? I thought he died," Ron asked, and I remembered that she had said something about that too.

"It's just short for 'great-grandfather'. That's the old man just now."

There were just so many questions. I had to ask them all. I began bombarding her with questions.

"And how is any of this my fault?"

"Like you heard, I was going to wait until after I finish my magical education before I attend to my task. But you just had to go and tell him, and one week before he has to take NEWTs at that. Are you mad?"

"So what if he knew?"

"He would put up a fight, and I would have to do it the hard way."

"And it's not like I would be able to tell him, isn't it? You put some sort of spell on us that day at the Lake."

"No I didn't. If I did, I wouldn't have felt compelled to do it right then and there."

"So how come I still couldn't tell him?"

"Your conscience, I should think. Remember how none of this was any of your business?"

I was so angry at this point, but Abigail was right. And she was wrong, too.

"So now Malfoy is going to wake up, and he will have confusing empty blocks of memory to explain why he's in the hospital wing."

"He would remember everything except me. You have nothing to worry about, Harry."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

It was, surprisingly, Lucius Malfoy who appeared suddenly to break the building tension.

"Good afternoon. So you are Silversmith's youngest?"

I watched, not understanding, as Abigail looked at him, eyes widened slightly and lips quivering with words that won't come out. Then I remembered that Mr. Silversmith had told her to be cautious of Lucius Malfoy, too, and I wondered what kind of acquaintance they had had before she took his Mark and his memories of her along with it. At least, that was what I worked out to have happened.

"Y-yes," she answered after a short delay.

"I knew your father. I was sorry to hear about his passing. He was a good man, a talented wizard, and a great artist."

"Yes. I mean, thank you, sir."

"We've met before, haven't we?"

Abigail seemed to light up at this. "Yes?"

"What is your name?"

She deflated a little. "Abigail Silversmith, sir."

"No, it was Holly, I think," he said it more to himself than anyone else.

"That's my sister, sir. She helps out at the shop sometimes."

"Ah, it was your sister," he said, assured. "Anyway, get well soon."

"Thank you, sir."

Abigail looked down at her hands. I watched Lucius Malfoy pause on his way back to his son's bedside, and he absently held his left arm as he turned around again. For one short moment I thought he was going to come back and say he remembered something, but his eyes found mine and he went back to his son instead. I wanted to smack my own forehead for deterring him.

I heard Abigail murmured to herself, "for one glorious moment…"

Hermione patted her arm. "You knew each other?"

"You'd think I'd be glad he doesn't remember all those times I told him I wanted to marry him when I grew up."

Hermione laughed awkwardly while Ron and I shared a disgusted look. "What?"

"I was just a stupid little girl. Then I did grow up, and just end up embarrassing myself whenever we met because I can't forget it. My penultimate Harvest…"

"But you're not glad," Hermione stated, "because if he remembers…"

We shared a silent understanding.

Abigail cleared her throat. "Next question?"

After what had just happened, I had come to terms that what's done is done, and understood that the whole thing was more a predicament to Abigail than it was to anyone else. I had no right to be asking her to justify herself to me.

"I'm sorry, Abigail. For everything." And I meant it.

Abigail smiled that sad smile, yet again. "It might be too soon to say that, Harry. I have enough reasons to Obliviate all of you. Now where's Dumbledore? I need my wand back."

I couldn't decide if she was joking or not; she sounded so serious. And thinking on it further did make it sound less like a joke.

"What?" Ron had blurted out.

Abigail responded with a chuckle. "I'm not thinking straight yet. I'm starting to feel tired, now."

We took it as our cue to end the visit. Hermione got a book out and placed it on the bedside table, and Abigail thanked us for visiting. As we headed out, I noticed Lucius Malfoy looking over at Abigail again. I wondered if he was going to talk to her again, perhaps having remembered a pale, dark-haired Harvester.

* * *

_**Author's Notes **_

_Hello, people. I'm facing finals, so I had to procrastinate and type this up instead of revising. As with previous chapters, ignore all mistakes, because this whole story consists of raw and un-beta-ed chapters. Storyline exists, so far. _


	15. Another visit to the hospital wing

The next day at lunch, Ron finally vocalized the question we've all been asking ourselves since the visit to the hospital wing: "Is Abigail really going to obliviate us?"

At first I too had thought that she was just embarrassed about that thing she told us about her obsessing over Lucius Malfoy as a little girl, but when I gave it more thought, I realised she could have meant it because of a bigger reason: my friends and I knew more than we ought to about the whole affair. We knew that she bore the last Mark, that she had sworn allegiance with the late Dark Lord, and that she was charged with a mission to assassinate her sister. We had forgotten about that last bit, actually, since getting caught up with the other mission concerning Malfoy, but seeing the old man again brought memories of their meeting in the piano room back into sharper focus. And with everything that we've been witnesses to, our worry over her seriousness was genuine.

"I really can't say for sure," Hermione began, "after all, I was once convinced that she wasn't going to go through with her last task."

"Well, she's kind of in a hurry to leave, isn't she? Maybe she won't bother. Dumbledore will have his say, I think."

The moment Ron said Dumbledore's name, my eyes snapped up to check on him at the High Table – but the headmaster was not there. I mechanically pulled out the Marauder's Map and opened it under the table. Ron and Hermione stuck their heads with mine and we searched for the professor's dot on the Map. It was some time before we found him at the hospital wing. Nearby, Sam, Weller, and Rigel stood by Abigail's bedside. Automatically, we jumped out of our seats and went on our way. It seemed that Dumbledore was returning her wand, and her friends were there to say goodbye.

We reached the hospital wing gasping for air. We earned curious looks from Abigail and her other visitors.

"You're not doing this right now?" Hermione began, panting. Abigail was just reclaiming her wand from the headmaster.

She raised her wand. "Well, now that you're all here-"

"Ms. Silversmith." Dumbledore said simply, but effectively stopping her.

"I _hate _loose ends," she murmured to herself.

"Oh, then you have nothing to worry about, young Smith. I don't suppose this count as one," with that, Dumbledore took his leave.

"Loose ends?" Rigel yelled, "what is wrong with you? Don't you care, at all, about anything or anyone but yourself and your stupid missions?"

"Stupid missions?" Abigail yelled back, indignant.

"Alright, calm down. We're in others' company," Weller tried to quell the potential war.

"Oh, didn't you know, Rei? Everybody here already knows!" Rigel said, arms flailing.

"Not everybody," Weller hissed. As one, we all looked over to Malfoy's bed. He was still unconscious, and his father was sleeping in the chair next to his bed.

"Alright, look, I don't have time to explain-"

Rigel snatched Abigail's wand from her hand then, shutting her up. "Explain."

I felt the room starting to shake. I was instantly reminded of a shattered piano, and the powerful wave of magic that had caused it to detonate itself. I started feeling nervous, and my hand found its way to the pocket that held my wand again.

But before I knew it, everything went still. I blinked stupidly at the scene before me: Hermione had made her way to sit next to Abigail on the bed, and was hugging and petting the smaller girl like she was a cat. The most astonishing thing was that it worked.

"There, there. It's alright," she cooed.

Everybody else simply had dumbfounded looks on our faces, silently asking each other, _"The fuck just happened?" _

Abigail's shoulders dropped, and she leaned into Hermione. "I'm sorry," she said to the group in general.

Rigel shifted a little. "I know. But I'm not."

I was with Rigel on this one, now that Abigail had taken to obliviating everyone, all around. We stood waiting for her explanation.

Quietly, she turned herself loose from Hermione's embrace. "He woke up last night."

It was _almost_ enough explanation for us all. "That's faster than the rest. They usually stay unconscious for days. I'm terrified that it didn't work, and I would have to try again, but this time with him knowing. I wish you hadn't stepped in, Harry."

Oh, it was going to be _my _fault after all? Unbelievable. "You're blaming _me_?"

"Partially. You knew I was going to do it anyway, no matter the circumstances, and the best circumstance was him not knowing."

"What is wrong with you?" It was Ron who asked it this time.

"She doesn't care about anyone or anything but herself," Rigel accused, and the small Slytherin visibly flinched.

"You're right, as usual, Rigel. I don't." Her remark prompted Hermione to leave her side and stand with the rest of us.

"Here's your bloody wand." Said wand was dropped onto her lap carelessly. Arms crossed, Rigel defiantly stood waiting to have their memories taken. I was much less inclined to do so.

"But she's not done explaining." Ron demanded. I voiced my agreement.

"You really want to hear my selfish explanation?" she bit back, bitterly.

Weller had a hand on Rigel's shoulder before another word was said.

"It doesn't matter. I'm not allowed to, remember?"

"But you _meant _to. Is it so hard for you to understand that that really bothers me?" Rigel asked, though I sensed that they didn't really expect an answer.

"Me, too. Why do you want to, well, _disappear _so badly? Just help us understand." It was the most I've so far heard Weller say.

Abigail broke down crying. She bared everything that she was by doing so; helpless, alone, and just plain miserable. I broke a little inside, remembering seeing someone like that before. It was the bathroom incident of sixth year with Malfoy.

"I can't _afford _to care about anyone, or having anyone care about me. You know what happened with my father! They used me to get him, and then used him to get me! Damn it, I don't know how to make anyone understand anything!" she said between sobs.

But it _did_ help us understand. I realised I have not heard the whole story of how she came to swear allegiance with Voldemort, but I got it now that it could only have been under gruesome circumstances. Most of all, I really did understand how she felt; I've had more than enough people dying for me and my bloody destiny.

By its own volition, my hand took hers and squeezed it. I tried to convey all my sincerity in my next words to her, hoping they would help even a little, "I _do_ understand."

She looked up at me, walls crumbling. It was not unlike looking into a mirror; there was guilt, suppressed anger, and a love withheld. I felt a great part of my own burden fall away.

All of a sudden, I was pushed aside. "Oi!" I yelled at the Slytherin prefect who had decided that that was the moment to jump their best friend and forgive her helplessness.

"I hate you," Rigel told Abigail.

"I know," was her reply.

"I hate you all." Weller confessed, and she turned away to leave.

I heard Ron whisper to Sam, "is that the Slytherin way of expressing affection?"

The brunette shrugged. "Wouldn't surprise me if it was."

I chanced a glance at Malfoy. My eyes found his bandaged left arm. "Well, for now I guess you have one less thing to worry about, Abigail; I saw Malfoy's arm after, you know, and the Mark was gone."

Abigail shook her head. "It might not entirely be. Your interference might have messed up the process in some way. And now that he knows, the second time around is going to really hurt."

I was a little confused. Hermione echoed it, "what do you mean?"

"I already broke his arm and I'm not even sure if the Harvest was successful."

And now I was mildly shocked. I looked again at Malfoy's bound arm. I couldn't believe it hadn't occurred to me until now; if it was just simply 'erasing' the Dark Mark, why was the arm bandaged? And she would _still _insist on it? "What is wrong with you?" I asked the question this time.

"The last time I failed to Harvest a Mark properly, the Death Eater died," she had regained her usual tone which tries to hide all emotion, but I could sense the remainder of an overwhelming guilt in them.

I looked over at Malfoy, but his eyes remained closed. "How long ago was that?" I asked, no longer bothering to conceal my worry over Malfoy's well-being.

"My first Harvest. It was my father."

We all looked at her in utter shock, and needless to say 'utter shock' didn't quite cover it.

* * *

_**Author's Notes**_

_****Why is it taking so long to finish this story? Man, I'm getting really bored._


	16. A last visit to the hospital wing

I only had five more days before the first NEWT, but, quite unsurprisingly, I laid awake in bed that night worrying over something else than the biggest exam of my magical education.

I always knew that Abigail would see through her task regardless of anything else, but still I had stubbornly insisted on stopping her. And now, Malfoy was probably going to die and I would have something to do with it. I watched him on the Map again, feeling all kinds of negative emotions at the same time. I began hating Abigail as well. The fucking Death Eater assassin. And that fucking piano!

After a few hours of throwing silent tantrums behind closed curtains in my bed, I just had to get out and see Malfoy again. I got dressed and donned my father's Cloak once more, and headed as quietly as I could for the hospital wing. I didn't care that Malfoy Sr. was still there next to his son.

It was already long past curfew; the halls and corridors were dark and empty. I was thankful for the torrent outside that currently filled the castle with noises of the storm, concealing my failure to keep a light step. I reached the hospital wing to find all of its occupants asleep. I approached Malfoy's bed, heart pounding.

I couldn't see his face; he was lying on his stomach facing his father. I moved in to get a better look.

"Harry?" her voice was low, but I could hear her over the rumbling in the sky. "I wouldn't do that if I were you. You might wake them both."

I moved to her side instead. "How did you know it was me? Wait, can you see me?"

"You're filling the air with unstable magic."

I considered her for a moment. "But you can't see me, right?"

"No, but you're not exactly unnoticeable either; keep it down, you'll wake the others. Still, that is a remarkable trick. How do you render yourself completely invisible?"

I shrugged and belatedly said, "I have my ways."

She shushed me. "That was too loud."

"But I didn't-"

She shushed me again.

I continued in a lower tone, "why are you still here?"

"Oh? I thought everybody was against me leaving."

"No, I meant here, at the hospital wing. Haven't you fully recovered?"

She jerked her head in Malfoy's direction. "To make sure. But you need to go back."

I shook my head, not caring that she couldn't see. "One question," I paused and looked over at Malfoy's bed again. I leaned in closer to her before continuing, "how did you know Malfoy Sr. before?"

I could almost sense the heat of her blushing. "Curse your Gryffindor curiosity."

I chuckled a little, but then I remembered how she had lit up and deflated again when the man had come to talk to her that one time. I waited for a straight answer, knowing she needed to get it out. It must be torture not being able to tell anyone things. I would know.

"As a comrade in arms," she answered seriously, and as it sunk in me, I shuddered; she meant 'as a fellow Death Eater who grudgingly served an evil master'.

I watched Lucius Malfoy, and saw his capability to _love_; it's been days, and there he remained by his son's side. The loss of his wife must have brought on serious adjustments to his priorities.

"You knew me by another name…" Abigail had said it only to herself, but I caught it.

"What was that?" I pretended not to have heard the longing in her voice. It was giving me weird ideas about their past acquaintance, and I wasn't particularly comfortable about them.

"Huh? Oh. You need to be off. Now."

I started on my way, but I had to go check on Malfoy properly. The next moment, I was staring at him with his back to me.

"Careful~" Abigail cautioned me in a sing-song voice.

I turned around to face her again, surprised. "How do you keep finding me? I thought you couldn't-"

She had brought a finger urgently to her lips, warning me to be quiet again. "A shot in the dark, if you _must _know, geez."

I turned back to Malfoy. I felt like confessing everything to him right there, knowing he wouldn't hear me.

"Draco," I began, raising a hand to touch his hair. He remained still under my touch. "You better not die, you git." I let my fingers run through the white-blond locks.

Abigail called my name in another urgent whisper just then, and I only had time to retrieve my hand before the door to Madam Pomfrey's office in the far back opened with an unnervingly loud creak, the medi-witch appearing from behind it. She started walking purposefully towards Malfoy's bed.

I made a dash for it, as light as my feet would allow, and waited outside.

"Mr. Malfoy, you said you were just leaving," she reminded the older Malfoy indignantly, startling him.

"What? Oh. Yes, I was," he said guiltily, standing up and smoothing out his robes.

I heard a small laugh, which was immediately followed by an apology, and Madam Pomfrey giving Abigail what for.

"Please, ma'am, can't he stay for a bit more?" Malfoy's voice surprised me thoroughly. When did he wake up?

Oh Merlin, was he awake the whole time? I felt the heat rush to my cheeks. _Was everyone fucking awake the whole time?_ ARGH, THERE WERE NOT ENOUGH CURSE WORDS IN THE WORLD.

I stood frozen at the door, ears trained. Malfoy kept begging her until she grudgingly approved in the end. "Five minutes, Mr. Malfoy."

They thanked her and she went back into her office.

"Draco, oh I am so glad that you're awake!"

"Easy, father… This is why I didn't want to wake you," his voice was slightly muffled, probably from being hugged.

So he had been awake for some time. I could hardly stop myself from stomping my feet at this realisation. I risked a peek at the pair.

Malfoy turned loose from his father's hold. "I have to ask you something."

"What is it, son?" his father asked, sitting back down in the chair next to the bed.

"Remember that time you got held in St. Mungo's for days?"

His father didn't answer immediately. "Yes?"

"Something else happened, didn't it?" he asked, but his tone suggested that he already knew the answer.

"I'm not sure what you mean," the man answered honestly.

Malfoy fixed him with a determined look. "Let me see your arm."

The older Malfoy instinctively moved his other hand to hold his left arm.

"It's alright," he persuaded his father. When he hesitated, Malfoy showed him his own left arm.

In his surprise, Lucius Malfoy grabbed his son's arm, tracing the unmarked skin with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Father?"

He finally complied, and revealed his own unmarked arm. He embraced his son again. "Draco, I kept it secret from you because, well, I felt guilty. You still had yours."

"What does this mean, father?"

Malfoy Sr. placed both hands on his son's shoulders, meeting his eyes. "It means that everything is going to be alright," he answered, a smile gracing his pale face. I unconsciously mirrored it.

But the other Malfoy was not smiling. "Then why don't I feel like it is?"

"Perhaps it's because you still have NEWTs to take in five days," this answer did nothing to reassure him.

"I should have kept pretending to be unconscious." I almost chuckled, but then I remembered what that could mean.

A few moments later, during which I seriously considered spending the remainder of my life as a stuffed dolphin, Madam Pomfrey reappeared to shoo Mr. Malfoy out of the hospital wing.

"I'm staying in Hogsmeade, I'll visit every day," he told his son before taking his leave. I stepped aside and watched him go, letting out a breath I didn't realise I was holding once he was out of sight.

I brought my attention back to Malfoy. It seemed Madam Pomfrey was examining him; the curtains around his bed were drawn. I continued waiting in agony.

Finally, the curtains were drawn back again, and Madam Pomfrey returned to her office, leaving a sleeping Malfoy in the bed. I wondered if she had fed him any sleeping draughts.

The door to the matron's office closed with a click, and Malfoy slowly rose in his bed. I almost cursed aloud.

"I know you're still awake," he told Abigail.

She had her back to him, but she evidently chose to stop pretending. She sat up and turned to face him. "And I know you've been awake since yesterday evening." I couldn't believe my ears. She knew, but she didn't try harder to stop me from baring my soul to him just now? Unbelievable!

"What's it to you?" he asked.

Abigail only regarded him with furrowed eyebrows. I knew we were both curious about the same thing: what else did Malfoy know?

"How did you get yourself here?" she started interrogating him.

"You're friends with Potter," a statement to avoid the question. I hung my head; he must have heard our exchanges earlier.

"You have questions." Another statement.

"Why are you here? Why was Potter here?"

"I hurt my arm. He was concerned."

"How?"

"I attempted suicide."

I couldn't fathom her principles. She would die to keep a promise, but could tell lies with such a straight face. Why the lie, anyway?

"I see…" Malfoy was saying, eyeing her bandaged arm.

Abigail said nothing and waited. I wished I could ask questions of my own. I wished she would ask them for me.

"What's your name?" he asked finally.

"I didn't get yours," she was unmoved.

"You already know my name."

I couldn't understand what exactly was going on.

"You flatter yourself," she stood her ground.

Was it a Slytherin thing?

"I know you were listening in on me and my father earlier."

"I heard nothing," she lied; I was at the other end of the room and even I heard them over the storm outside.

"You understood nothing."

"Yes."

If everyone would just stop talking in codes, that would be great…

"Have we met before?" I heard defeat in his tone.

"I would remember you," I heard nothing in her tone.

"Is that a no?"

"No."

"Which 'no'?"

Seriously, what was going on here?

Abigail then fixed him with an odd look. Next thing I know, Malfoy collapsed back on his pillow. I barged in.

"What happened?" I asked her, forgetting that she couldn't see me.

"Harry?" she was apparently surprised. "What- Were you just standing there the whole time?"

I checked on Malfoy; he appeared to have passed out. "Did you… did you just wordlessly stupefied him?" I looked to find her gripping her wand firmly.

"I panicked!" she confessed.

"That was you _panicking_?" For real? What was wrong with her?

"Harry, you're not helping my nerves at all; please stop being a disembodied scary voice," she sounded so childish, I almost laughed. But I was still cross with her, so I denied her request.

"Can he wake up this time?" In despite of it all, I had never felt more emboldened to openly show my concern for Draco Malfoy.

"He'll be fine. _I'm_ surprised that it worked. My strength has yet to fully return."

We both actually spent the next few minutes observing Malfoy worriedly.

He finally stirred and moaned a little, prompting Abigail to gasp and me to remind her to "be quiet!" But Malfoy didn't open his eyes, nor did he move an inch from his currently odd position. We continued watching him. He would ache all over when he wakes. "Could you just… tuck him in?"

I scoffed, but did it anyway. I started by getting both my arms underneath him and lifted him by the shoulders to straighten his back. That was when an arm came up and pulled on my hood, revealing my head. I froze, eyes fixed on his cold grey ones, our faces only an inch from each other. It was my turn to panic.

I pulled away harshly, hurting my hand that was pinned under him, and ran like my life depended on it.

There was no way I could come back to the hospital wing after that.

* * *

_**Author's Notes**_

_Man, I should get some sleep. _


	17. NEWT begins

I have never been more embarrassed in all my life. I didn't go back to the hospital wing after that night, consenting to staying behind whenever Ron or Hermione suggested another visit. I wouldn't return even with the Cloak on. Heck, I couldn't even bring myself to peruse the Marauder's Map for Malfoy's dot again. Most of all, I became increasingly worried that he would recover in the near future. My worry increased about ten-fold when I first saw Abigail out and about again two mornings later, because I knew that it meant Malfoy would soon follow.

By Godric, do I miss being an unfeeling stuffed dolphin.

"Good morning, Harry. How's the revision for NEWTs going?" Abigail asked, conversationally. I had been alone in the unused classroom up until now.

I glared at her. "You bloody well know how."

She blinked curiously at me. "Why are you afraid?"

"Oh, you think I look afraid?" Seriously, how did the brat, of all people, found me?

"I know fear of rejection when I see it," she answered meaningfully.

I hated that I was glad to have at least this one person to talk to.

"How long have you known, anyway?"

She furrowed her eyebrows. "Known fear?"

I narrowed my eyes at her. Was she feigning ignorance to try and make me say it? "No. Known whatever it is that you seem to know."

"What do you think I know?" she pressed on.

Fine. There was nothing for it anyway. "That I have feelings for Malfoy!"

We fell silent, and I actually swayed a little. Finally admitting it outside of my head made me feel …empowered, somehow. And nervous. And terrified. But mostly, relieved.

She patted me on the back. "There, that wasn't so bad, was it?"

I buried my face in my hands. They were shaking irrepressibly. "Just answer the question."

She looped an arm over my shoulders before speaking again. "You ever looked at a person, _really_ looked, and felt like you were looking in a mirror?"

A memory of the first time I saw her unguarded eyes overwhelmed my mind. I brought myself out of my hands to find those lightless eyes again.

I saw it again. "You _do_ love him. You always have. That's why you could do it."

She tilted her head a little to the side at this. "Do it?"

"Give him up, so he gets a second chance," I knew that by saying so, I was also admitting that she had done the right thing after all, but my ego didn't matter anymore.

She put on a confused look. "Is it a Gryffindor thing, putting things in such ways that they seem more valiant and dignified?"

I wanted to smack her on the head for that. "Just admit it, you …typical Slytherin."

She smiled. "I guess it may have been a contributing factor."

I rolled my eyes. "Stop being ridiculous!" I told her and shoved her a little. She only giggled.

"You told no one about that night," I stated, and soon realised that I had picked up the apparently Slytherin habit of simply stating things.

"Not my story to tell," she replied briefly.

"Thank you, really. Why are you helping me, anyway? I thought we ought to be rivals or something."

She then looked at me and smiled brightly. "Because I know something you don't."

"So tell me."

She turned away again. "No. I have a feeling you'll find out for yourself. Anyway, you should think about what needs to be done now."

I actually groaned in exasperation. "Turn me back into a stuffed dolphin?"

She poked me in the ribs. It hurt, but only a little.

"And what about you? At least be a good friend and stay a little more for him. Why can't you, I guess, start again with Malfoy?"

"Oh, you Gryffindors can be real thickheads. Listen to me very carefully" and she came to meet my eyes once more. "I am many things, and a good friend is not one of them. I never meant to stay, so now you're the one who has to go out there and face your fears."

I didn't know how to react to that. Was she being ridiculous again?

She then took my hand and pressed something cold into it. I looked down at my palm. It was curiously-shaped and made of silver, and I could tell that it was her own handicraft. Other than that, however, it was a completely foreign thing to me. I looked at her questioningly.

"It's supposed to remind you to stay true to yourself," she explained, shrugging.

Hurm. And she couldn't even truthfully admit her obvious feelings for Malfoy. "Well, you need it more than I do, then," I said, holding it out to her.

She shook her head. "I've had it on me all this time. It's my parting gift for you, I've decided."

I furrowed my eyebrows. "It doesn't work, then." I placed it in my pocket, nonetheless. "Wait, you're leaving right now? Hogwarts?"

"I was going to leave as soon as I was sure that Malfoy will be alright," she answered.

"Was going to?" I repeated her. "What changed?"

"It's finals week. I might as well finish this year. See you around, Harry." With that, she left the room.

I ventured outside after further consideration. Face my fears… right. Not a Gryffindor for nothing.

"Where do you go off to these days?" Hermione asked me the next day at lunch, by way of greeting me.

"It's a castle, Hermione. Not any place in particular." I plopped down across from her, my back to the Slytherins for the first time in months.

Hermione ploughed on, "I hope you haven't been just to skive off studying. Our first NEWT is only a couple of days away!"

"Yes, I know, Hermione," I tried to wave her off and switch my full attention onto having lunch.

"Abigail's left the hospital wing," Ron informed me unnecessarily.

"Yes, I know, Ron."

"As have Malfoy," Hermione said.

I stilled in my seat. "I see."

"No, I mean, he _just _did," she continued, indicating the entrance to the Great Hall.

I couldn't stop myself from turning to find him. He was just stepping into the Hall, flanked by Nott and Zabini. Our eyes met for a split second before I hurried back to my plate and skewered a cube of roast potato. I felt my prior determination ebbing away, and I actually growled in frustration. Hermione blinked at me.

I ignored her, shoving the potato into my mouth. Thankfully, she chose to shrug it off.

Within the next couple of days, I managed to avoid Malfoy entirely, having gone back to inspecting the Maraudar's Map every now and then again. I clung to the Map as if everything depended on it. But the dreaded first day of NEWT arrived, and I solemnly accepted that I wasn't going to be able to avoid Malfoy forever.

However, as I sat staring at the crude-shaped wooden block on the table before me later on, I realised that not being able to avoid Malfoy was the least of my problems now. I only had three more attempts to transfigure the block of wood into a fucking duplicate key.

"Can I see the key again?" I asked the examiner, and she showed me the key that I was supposed to make a wooden duplicate of for the third time in the past half of an hour. From a little ways behind me, I could make out Ron's complaining, "It's not like we can't use Alohomora instead…"

I silently agreed with Ron, but still tried my best to burn the shape of the key in my brain and project it back onto the block of wood. I felt cold sweat trickle down the side of my face.

I raised my wand again and uttered the incantation, picturing the shape of the key as accurately as I could. The wood floated, turned a few times, and then folded in on itself. A more jagged-shaped piece of wood fell back onto the table; I was getting close. Two more attempts allowed.

"Can I see the key again?" I repeated to the examiner for the fourth time.

"I will have to dock points this time, you know," she reminded me.

I almost cursed aloud. I sighed in defeat instead. "Alright."

She scribbled something on her parchment before showing me the key again, levitating it at my eye level as she did thrice before. I then looked as hard as I could ever look at anything.

"Alright," I repeated to myself in determination.

I distractedly closed my free hand over the cloth of my trouser pocket, feeling the cold metal inside it.

I waved my wand once more, saying the incantation in a firm voice and willing the bit of wood to take the shape of a key. It floated and turned again, and when it fell onto the table with another thud, I was elated to see that it was now shaped like a proper key. I sighed.

The examiner placed the template key next to my duplicate, the better to compare them.

"Good job," she said and nodded approvingly, "now turn it to metal."

I felt the colour drain from my face.

She laughed. "Only joking, Mr. Potter. You are excused."

I didn't know whether I wanted to strangle her or shake her hand gratefully. I decided on neither and just muttered my thanks. As I turned around to leave, she called out for the next candidate.

Having finished my first NEWT, I was feeling considerably lighter.

There was a revel of sorts in Gryffindor tower that night in celebration of a small victory, but I didn't feel like being around people just yet. I snuck out of the common room and soon found myself in the almost-empty library. I was drawn to the particularly dusty rows of Q through S.

I found a lonely armchair at the very back of row Q. I pulled out a random book from the shelf and went to sit in said armchair. It was unexpectedly not as dusty as the rest of the row. I sunk more comfortably into it and cracked my book open. I couldn't be bothered with its title at the moment.

I had only gotten through the first page when someone spoke to me. "You're in my seat, Potter."

I almost yelped. I looked up and found a somewhat dishevelled Malfoy standing in front of me, holding a book in one hand. The top buttons of his shirt were undone, his green tie loosened, and he had blond hair partly covering his face. To top it off, he had dust in said hair. Actually, he had dust nearly all over him. I felt compelled to take out my wand.

"What are you doing?" he asked, mildly alarmed. I raised my wand steadily and he took a step back.

"Potter." He warned curtly.

"Scourgify," I muttered. He only closed his eyes against the warm breeze. I frowned; he looked unruly, and he didn't have his wand, or he had forgotten that he's supposed to use it to defend himself. He blinked confusedly and I wondered about the reason for him being so out of sorts. I thought of Abigail.

"You don't look so good, Malfoy. How was Transfiguration?"

He abruptly stopped in the middle of dusting off his shoulder. Malfoy regarded me with furrowed eyebrows.

"It was fine," he answered finally.

I stood up from my seat. He took another step back. I noticed that he was looking at my hand that still held my wand. I put it back inside a pocket. He seemed to relax a little.

"What happened to your wand?" I decided to ask.

He looked at me with his 'what the heck' face. "What?" he asked, somewhat indignant.

"You're not supposed to just stand there when someone raises their wand against you," I knew I sounded pesky, but I couldn't be bothered with that, either, at the moment.

He only frowned at me. "What's with you?" he sneered.

How little does he remember? I stepped forward, and he took his third step back. I moved around him and replaced my book on the shelf. He almost fell backwards.

I sighed and stood back a little, waiting for his confrontation.

Silent moments passed, and Malfoy finally spoke. "That was really you the other night, wasn't it?"

I shifted. I didn't know what to expect, but I refused to run away this time. "Yes," I answered, baring all.

He turned his face a little to the side, cold eyes narrowed at me. It set my teeth on edge. "Explain," he demanded simply.

How typically Slytherin. "Explain?"

"Explain," he repeated crossly. I felt anger rising inside me. Was he belittling me? Mocking me?

In the next instant, I had him backed against the shelf, my arms raised to trap him between them. "What do you think, you arrogant Slytherin git?" I whispered harshly.

In the space of one short moment, he stood there frozen, eyes wide, and then reached up and shoved me to the side. I also heard the only word I needed to hear from him to confirm everything: "No."

I was done waiting. Once more, I ran as fast as my legs could go.

* * *

_**Author's Notes**_

_Now that I'm getting to the Drarry part, I don't feel too obligated to end this story as soon as possible, so here's to a bit of angst and drama! Don't worry, Harry, I mean well. :P_


	18. So Harry messed up

There wasn't enough space to cover in Hogwarts Castle. Not enough for the run I was desperately trying to finish. I ran the entire lengths of countless corridors, up and down any staircase I came across, but still I could not be done running. I would run out of the castle and into the forest and away, but that meant going past crowded halls, and I hated the thought of people right now, more than I could previously fathom.

It hurt. Merlin, it hurt like nothing else possibly ever could. I wanted to disappear, to forfeit the rest of my life, to have never lived to begin with. But for now, I could only run.

So I sought out more corridors, more halls to quell this need to just run.

Eventually, long after the last tolling of bells, I came to stand before a now-familiar door. I opened it and stepped inside, closing it again behind me. The room was exactly how it was when I had first gone into it, and I was again drawn to the large piano at the centre.

I raised a hand and helplessly wished the piano would take away all the pain from inside me and fill me with lifeless, unfeeling cotton stuffing once more. I touched the polished wood, surrendering, but it would grant me no release. Digging my nails into the cold wood, I collapsed onto the floor, and darkness ultimately took over my senses.

"Harry, mate, wake up!" It was Ron's voice. I'd almost forgotten what he sounded like.

I heard Hermione gasp. "Harry, your hands!"

I couldn't understand her at first, but then I started to feel the throbbing at the tips of my fingers. I finally opened my eyes, but the world remained a blur.

"You broke your glasses," she said, wand obligingly raised in her hand.

She fixed the cracked glass, but then the world became too bright, so I pulled the glasses off and reached up to pinch the bridge of my nose. My fingers throbbed harder. I heard Hermione wince, and I could smell dried blood.

"We better get that seen to, Harry," Hermione advised, and Ron moved in to support me. I held up a hand in protest.

"Leave me. I'm tired."

"But, Harry…" she tried again, and I shook my head.

Ron insisted to move me. I shoved him away, harder than I meant to. I felt myself losing control.

"Get out!" I hadn't meant to yell it, but that's what I did, and when Ron and Hermione refused to leave again, I simply repeated myself.

In the end, they relented, and I lied back down on the rough stone floor, shutting it all away again.

I awoke later to sounds of the storm outside. I sat up and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. I felt around for my glasses and found them a few feet from my place on the floor. I put them on.

Someone was at the door. I sat up.

A small girl let herself into the room. "Harry?"

I looked up, expecting to see my pain mirrored in Abigail's eyes. But when I met them, they held no pain – they held nothing. I hung my head.

"I didn't know what I expected," I heard myself say. "Did it hurt you, knowing he didn't want to be yours, the way you were already his?"

She moved to kneel in front of me, and I waited for no answer, "Did it hurt like this?"

Abigail said something I didn't hear.

"You said you knew something I didn't… I thought you meant it as a good thing…"

Her voice was faint in my ears, and I could not make out what she had just said.

"Is this what you knew?" A thought occurred to me then, and anger built up inside me again.

"Did you know he wouldn't be mine, either? Did you send me out there so I would feel this pain? Your pain? You just wanted me to be as miserable as you are!"

She had placed both hands on my shoulders, and she was yelling now, something about me needing to listen to her.

"I WON'T LISTEN TO YOU! YOU CARE ABOUT NOTHING AND NO ONE BUT YOURSELF!"

I felt a sharp blow to my stomach then. I doubled over in physical pain. The brat punched me!

She said something, but I heard nothing again. I let the pain recede before I moved in to retaliate.

I haven't fought like a muggle in years now. At one point, I had her pinned under me, but then she reached up and pressed her fingers sharply against the flesh of my throat, briefly paralysing me. Whenever I managed to overpower her with my strength, she would defeat me with tricks like that; sending me off-balance, poking parts of my body where it surprisingly _hurt_, and somehow weaving out of my grasp while I still held on firmly.

In the end, she had me face-down on the floor with my arm pulled painfully over my back, her full weight resting on it.

"Do you yield? DO YOU YIELD?" I heard her properly for the first time since she entered the room.

"I YIELD, I YIELD!" I shouted desperately and stilled my movements in surrender.

She released me and moved to sit beside me. We sat up gasping for air.

"How in the blazes did you do that?" I breathed out.

"You- could become- completely- invisible. I- could start- a fight- and win." She said, panting.

"No, really, how?"

"I'm- smaller- but-" she waved an arm, "lemme just-" chest heaving, she stopped talking.

In another moment, her hands were clasped onto my shoulders again. "Are you with me right now?" she asked, her breathing still heavy.

I looked up at her. She fixed me with a determined look.

"Yes."

"Okay." A pause, "What happened?"

I didn't want to be thinking about Malfoy so soon, but something akin to guilt was swelling up inside me, and I soon remembered backing him to a bookshelf in a secluded corner of a deserted library, how he had stood as if frozen between my arms, eyes widened. I was angry at the time, I hadn't realised.

"I told Malfoy..." I trailed off.

"How?"

"I… sort of… Not very calmly."

"What's that supposed to mean? Did you force yourself on him?"

Was that what I did? I couldn't be sure… "Maybe I kind of did…"

"Bad!" She said, and thwacked me round the head. "Very bad move, Harry!"

I felt like Crookshanks when Hermione would scold him for being a 'bad kitty'. I gave her an incredulous look, and very little else.

She was unmoved. "He's inconsolable! He just got out of hospital! He almost _died_, remember?"

I wanted to remind her that she had no right to be giving me that tone, but we were talking about Malfoy, not me or her.

And she was right; I _have_ made a terrible mistake. I had acted desperately, and out of some amount of anger. I've probably made the impression that I would treat him the way Theodore Nott had. This last thought sobered me up considerably.

Abigail took my hand then. I winced, involuntarily. I had forgotten that I had hurt them earlier.

"Come on, go get this seen to." She said after a brief inspection of my fingers.

She helped me to my feet and sent me out of the room. "And get your own hideout!"

As I let Madam Pomfrey fuss over my purple fingertips later at the hospital wing, I wondered how I could possibly save this one.

I returned to Gryffindor Tower that night and was met with the stressed out faces of Ron and Hermione. I slowly went up to them.

"I'm sorry," was all I could say at this point. Ron crossed his arms. Hermione searched my face.

"I really am. For this morning. For getting you into this mess. For everything."

Hermione placed a hand on my shoulder and looked me in the eye.

"I'm sorry," I felt like saying it over and over, to anyone who would listen.

"What's wrong, Harry?" I heard Ron ask. I was guided to sit down on a sofa.

I felt the cold metal inside my pocket again. Closing my eyes, I answered him honestly. "Malfoy. I don't know how I'm going to fix things with him."

There was nothing but silence at first. Then, someone squeezed my shoulder. I looked to see sympathy in Ron's eyes. "You will, though."

Hermione had launched herself at me, stroking my hair as if I were a cat. "Oh, _Harry_."

What was going on? "You know?" I asked them both.

"We know. Big deal." Ron shrugged.

I felt something stinging my eye. "But it is. And you're not mad at me?"

I was squeezed again, this time by Hermione. "How can we be mad at you for just …being in love with someone?"

I smiled. It was liberating to hear her say that.

But I wished Malfoy would liberate me. How was I going to tell him? Would he even see me now?

* * *

_**[Author's Notes] **_

_I think Harry's turned into a kitty cat in my head. Finals do weird things to my psyche. Now then, how will Harry patch things up with Malfoy? I should really study, but I'd rather find this out._


	19. Harry apologises to Malfoy

I didn't get a chance to prepare for my next meeting with Malfoy. It was the third NEWT, Potions, and we had to brew a preparation based off of pure memory. The first time I tried to make this potion, my partner Neville had botched it up so severely that Professor Slughorn was compelled to get everyone in the class another chance to try again. And so the next time I made this potion was in this very classroom, partnered with Malfoy. Now, by some equally bizarre turn of events i.e. random pairing, I had found myself seated with him again to brew a potion that would testify as the outcome of our magical education. At least in the field of Potions specifically.

I felt obligated to begin the session with a heartfelt apology, but Malfoy proved to be more concerned with getting the job done as soon as possible.

"Malfoy, I'm sorry about-"

In one fluid movement, he smoothed out the piece of parchment laid on the table and poised a quill over it at the ready. "I remember there was half an hour between the two parts of brewing this potion. We need infusion of wormwood, shrivelfigs, belladonna… What do you have?"

I only blinked at him. I sighed and turned away, checking the ingredients on the table. "Snake fangs, horned slugs-"

"I meant, what do you remember?"

"Oh. Urm," I searched the raised ceiling for answers. "The last step was to stir five times, clockwise,"

We continued picking each other's brains for the list of materials and steps of making the brew. In the next half an hour, we had tried to hand in our findings to the invigilators only to be told to "try again," thrice. When we were finally cleared for brewing, there was just enough time to leave the potion for half an hour to brew in-between the two parts of the process, provided we worked on the remainder of it in haste and silence.

Working with Malfoy like this, I noted that he had recovered much of himself since I last saw him. For reasons I can't figure out, it relieved me to see him once again focused, orderly, and even condescending. The half-hour break finally arrived, and we sat awkwardly for what felt like an eternity.

Almost all of thirty minutes have passed when Malfoy at last began with the Slytherin way of opening conversations: with a statement.

"You were apologising."

"For the other night. Both nights."

He raised an eyebrow, slightly. Within myself, I was celebrating a small victory; I had managed to respond in the Slytherin way as well.

He tore his eyes from me and only looked at the wood of our table. "Alright," was all he said.

I didn't understand, but my heart started beating really fast. "What do you mean?"

He still refused to look at me as he said, harshly, but sort of hushed. "Only that it's alright, jeez! What, you want me to apologise, too? Fine, I overreacted, sorry!"

I could _hear _the laborious beating of my heart. Steadily, I rose from my seat and approached him. He turned briefly, and when I was standing right next to him he only turned to observe the table again.

I put a tentative hand on his, which lay on the table. "Is this alright, too?"

He said nothing, but he didn't remove his hand. I trembled as I intertwined my fingers with his. His head then snapped up to look at our hands, then at me, and finally at the other students in the room.

I heard whispers of my name and his, but I would not be deterred. I waited for him again.

His eyes finally found mine, and they weren't as cold as I remembered them. "Alright," he said it so quietly I almost missed it.

Our timer went off in that instant, and we had to blink some before hastily attending to the steaming liquid in the cauldron.

We avoided looking at each other as we faced the examiner at the end of the exam. We simply watched him scribble things onto his parchment. Then he tested our brew with a splinter, and we unconsciously followed it to the bottom of the cauldron. Finally he took up our parchment from the table. "You did remember to write down your names, didn't you?"

"Yes." We chorused.

The examiner nodded, rolling up the parchment. "You are excused," he told us, and then moved to the next table.

Malfoy sighed, smiling, but faltered when I turned to look at him.

Not wanting it to turn awkward, I said as quickly as I could manage, "good job today, Malfoy."

His hand had come up to touch his nose not-so-awkwardly. "You too, I guess."

We stood there for a bit, not saying anything.

Blaise Zabini appeared out of nowhere. "That was not too bad, I guess. Who did you get partnered with?" he asked Malfoy, and then belatedly found me standing there. "Oh."

Malfoy only nodded and turned to leave. I almost reached out a hand to stop him. "Wait, Malfoy," I said urgently, and he turned to look at me expectantly. "Can I, urm, see you later?"

Zabini whistled and took a step back. Then Theodore Nott showed up, again out of nowhere. "Why didn't we get _this_ classroom? It looks more conducive! Who'd-"

The dark boy looped an arm around Nott's shoulder and steered him outside, through the other door that led further into the dungeons, saying, "So charm's next. I've a feeling they'll test our non-verbal casting skills."

Malfoy shifted where he stood. I waited again.

"But… why?" he asked, eyes boring into me.

If someone nudged me at the knees right then, I would collapse. "Well, because… because I want to." My systems seemed to be going into overdrive as I feared having given the wrong answer.

Then Ron's voice suddenly ringed out from the door on the other side, "Harry! Are you done yet?" Hermione had to shush him.

It caught the attention of the few students still remaining with us. I couldn't stop the groan from escaping my mouth. I thought I heard Malfoy chuckle.

It was agony waiting for him. "Please?" I begged, defeated.

For a moment, he only looked at me, lips slightly parted. Then he caught himself and cleared his throat. "Well, you know where to find me," he stated, before turning to leave again.

I stood there blinking for a moment. Leaving the dungeon that afternoon, I felt triumphant.

* * *

_**[Author's Notes]**_

_I know it's so short, but Oh Merlin's pointed hat, we're there! It's Drarry!_


	20. Malfoy tells a story and later confesses

"Oh, I really hope they didn't deduct any marks for getting the list of ingredients wrong the first time!" Hermione announced worriedly. Apparently she had misspelled one of the items in her rush. I rolled my eyes.

"Hah! Neville was lucky to have you! It took Terry Boot _two_ rejections before he would start listening to me so we could move onto brewing! Even then we got told to 'try again' twice more! So fucking full of himself." Ron complained grudgingly, faking a voice when he said 'try again'.

Hermione dismissed him with a wave of her hand. "Who did they partner you with, Harry?"

I smiled as I answered her, "Malfoy."

Hermione actually squealed. Ron faltered a little.

"Did you two talk it out?" she asked, grinning. I couldn't understand what she found so exciting about it all.

"Urm… you could say that," I began, my tone becoming unsure.

"What? Harry, I assume you're smiling because it went alright," Hermione put a hand on my shoulder as she said this.

"I mean, there wasn't much talking, but something good came out of it, I think."

Ron spoke up, "do I want to know?"

I shrugged. "Said we'll see each other later."

Hermione sort of jumped then. "Ooh, what for?"

"Hermione, please!" Ron reprimanded her for the first time this year. Or was that ever?

Nothing more on the subject was said, but I couldn't stop thinking about it. What could I expect from this meeting?

Hermione was now bringing up Charms NEWT, but Ron shushed her. "No, no, no. We _just _finished Potions; I'm starving."

And as Ron said it, Hermione and I realised that we were too, so we headed down to the kitchens for a sandwich platter.

I was watching Ron stuff his nth sandwich into his mouth when I realised that, apart from the house-elves, we were the only ones in the kitchen. I pulled the Marauder's Map out of my bag again.

"What, you're still carrying that around on you?" Ron asked through a mouthful.

"I'll point out that that puts you in the 'obsessive' category of boyfriends," Hermione offered, smiling, and the word 'boyfriend' had very nearly stopped my heart from beating entirely.

"If you could just keep those kinds of things to yourself, Hermione…" I implored her.

"Awww…" was her reply, petting the top of my head. "It's true, though."

I turned back to the Map and found Malfoy in his room back in Slytherin dungeon. I simply watched him for a few moments.

"What was that?" Ron blurted out.

"What?" I asked back, panicking a little, scanning over the Map.

"Oh. I thought I saw- Hey! There it is again!" he had dropped a sandwich and was now pointing at Abigail's dot.

"It's Abigail!" he said, and I felt like smacking him.

"Yes, Ron, the Map shows everyone in the castle."

"No! She sort of disappeared just now!" He tapped on her dot, urging us to keep watching.

Hermione and I agreed to watch her for a bit. Nothing happened at first, but then she went out onto the castle grounds and started _flickering_.

With a sinking feeling, I followed her dot as it head out to the Lake, and then faded slowly under a birch tree. As one, the three of us got up and bolted out of the dungeon.

She was leaving, now, without saying her proper goodbyes? The selfish brat!

But soon we reached the Lake and were met with a sight that made Hermione gasp; Abigail lied motionless under the tree, her eyes closed in apparent tranquillity.

We rushed to her side, and I desperately looked for a pulse.

"No pulse…" I breathed out, heart hammering.

Ron cursed aloud and then lifted her off of the grass easily. In silent agreement, we ran in the direction of the hospital wing.

I had lost any appetite for food, but Madam Pomfrey wouldn't have us in the hospital wing while she tried to revive Abigail. So I sat staring into a bowl of soup at dinner. Even Ron had miraculously become practised in proper table manners, for now he was eating his dinner without making a mess of it. Of course I didn't expect him to stop eating entirely.

I looked over at the Slytherin table and found Malfoy laughing with his classmates. At any other moment, I wouldn't feel so wretched to see him that way.

Someone tapped Hermione on the shoulder. Ron and I looked up as Hermione turn around to face the short-haired Gryffindor, Sam.

"I don't see Smith. Perhaps you've seen her?" she asked Hermione, her face a blank as she scanned the Slytherin table.

"Oh, Sam," Hermione sounded dejected, and she gestured for the girl to sit down next to her. Once Sam had settled down, she began explaining to her.

"Something's happened. We found her passed out at the Lake and had to take her up to the hospital wing."

The brunette only blinked. "Again?"

I was astounded with the apparent lack of compassion.

Hermione only looked even more sympathetic. "Sam, it looks really bad," she elaborated, as if trying to make the girl understand.

She only nodded, then stood up and left. At the door, she was joined by her friend, Weller.

I continued to contemplate the bowl of soup in front of me. It wouldn't appeal to me, so I looked up again to find Malfoy.

He was smiling to himself, and I fancied that it was because of me. I felt guilty, somehow. I decided to do something about the whole thing.

My friends and I had meant to try to see Abigail at the hospital wing again after dinner, but I felt that there was something I needed to do first, so I parted with them to head for the library.

I knew that this was where Malfoy expected me to come find him; it was the last place we had been alone together. The row was as dusty as before, but the lonely armchair in the end of it seemed less so. The blond seated in it was reading a curious-looking book, and looked every bit like himself again – breath-taking, and a little formidable.

Malfoy was so absorbed in his reading that I had to touch his shoulder to make my presence known. "Hey."

He was only mildly startled. "Oh. Erm, hey."

"I'm glad to see you doing much better."

He seemed to be at a loss for words. "Thank you," he decided. It didn't seem like he was finished, so I waited all over again.

After a moment, he spoke up. "Since I woke up, I've had these… these memories that I can't explain," he looked up at me then, searching my face. I had no idea what to expect.

"I can't make sense of them, and… and so many of them concern you… in one way or another…"

My eyes widened slightly; I also have no idea how to explain that. My wildest guess was that Abigail had been replaced with me in his memories, and I didn't know what to feel about it, if that was the case.

"But… how could that be?" I asked him.

He stood up then, and took my hand in his. He kept his eyes on it as he said, "I'm only sure about one thing, and that is…" he looked me in the eye then, "I've always felt this way about you."

My heart was beating a mile a minute. I also realised that he was getting closer. Desperately, I went over the whole thing in my head.

What if this was all only because of his messed up memories? Was this what Abigail knew? Was this what she was talking about when she told me not to worry? Then this would all be so wrong. Just, _wrong_. And there was no way I could just leave things this way.

Ripping my heart out, I stopped Malfoy by placing both hands on his shoulders.

"Harry?" he asked, obviously confused. It couldn't have hurt less to hear him call my name, having to refuse him.

I could only shake my head; there was a lump in my throat, choking me. "Please," I managed, "will you come with me?"

He looked at me with furrowed eyebrows. I placed a hand on his cheek. "Please," I repeated, feeling tears stinging my eyes.

He seemed more confused than ever, but chose to comply. I led him away, surrendering, and headed for the hospital wing.

A few moments later, we found Abigail lying motionless on a bed. It also looked like she had a bubble-head charm cast on her. Standing around her bed were Ron, Hermione, Weller, Sam, and Rigel, who was seated and had a blindfold on. I was momentarily surprised to see it.

I watched Malfoy as he observed her, eyebrows knitted together.

"Who's this?" he whispered to my ear, and my heart broke for myself and for Abigail too.

I turned to face her. "A friend." _Yours and mine._

"Oh. She was the girl next to me when I was last here," he told no one in particular.

I wondered if he was remembering the part where she had said she had attempted suicide. His eyes found her bandaged arm.

"She asked me to read her a story," he seemed to have not realised that he was talking out loud.

It was Rigel who responded. "Would you say you're a decent storyteller?"

Malfoy blinked at the blindfolded stranger. "Erm, no."

"How about a short one, then?"

Malfoy looked conflicted. He contemplated the faces that were now looking at him. "What's with you all?"

"A really short one?" Rigel insisted.

He turned to me, seemingly pleadingly. I only shrugged.

Malfoy looked a little miffed. "Fine.

"A man was enjoying a walk in a garden of flowers. All around him were fauna of every colour you could imagine. There were bees and butterflies and stuff. He paused to smell a yellow rose, and found a butterfly's cocoon attached to its stem. A new-born was just emerging out of it.

"He sat watching the butterfly, and soon found his heart aching at its struggle. No matter how hard the butterfly tried, it could not release itself from the hardening cocoon. He was then struck with an idea, and took his wand out of a pocket inside his robes.

"He cast a spell that opened the cocoon, freeing the butterfly. At first he was glad, but he saw that the butterfly's wings remained sticky and wouldn't spread open. Unable to fly, the butterfly soon died."

Malfoy's story seemed to have ended; he said nothing more. We looked at him as if dazed.

Ron piped up, "Malfoy, you suck."

"Was that really it?" Sam asked, blinking at him.

"That's… all I could remember."

"But that can't be it," Rigel spoke.

Malfoy didn't budge. "I thought it was a good story."

"It's not." Hermione decided.

Madam Pomfrey then appeared. "Curfew is soon, dearies." Her eyes found the blindfolded Slytherin sitting on the chair. "Why, you're supposed to stay in bed!"

"Forgive me madam, but there's a happy ending I'm waiting to hear and I don't need my eyes to do so."

I couldn't stop myself from laughing. Neither could everyone else. But Rigel's face remained as serious as ever. "Did I just make a joke, imbecile?" the question was only directed at Sam, who laughed even as she said, "but I wasn't the only one who laughed!"

A weak voice was heard then, and we all looked to see Abigail opening her eyes. She tried to sit up, but Madam Pomfrey went and pushed her back down on the bed.

The matron removed the bubble-head-like charm on her. "Take it easy, now. You were just barely alive."

Abigail looked surprised. "What? How did I end up here?"

Hermione took hold of her hand. "You fell unconscious at the Lake. Don't you remember?"

Madam Pomfrey wasted no time in showing us out of the hall. "Alright, she needs to rest. You, too," she pointedly told Rigel, "everyone else, out."

"What happened to Rigel, by the way?" I heard Ron ask Sam in a hushed tone.

"Finals, I think."

I stopped Malfoy once we were out the door. We watched the others disappear from view.

I tried to explain everything to him. I reached a hand into a pocket, touching the cold metal I had placed inside it.

"Look, I really am glad to see you doing better. But those memories you have of me – I don't think they are."

He shook his head slightly. "But, you said that _was _you the other night, here."

Well, "Yes, but just that one. Maybe what you remember after you passed out outside of the Great Hall and ended up here, but not before."

"And Potions' NEWT today. We've partnered up to brew that potion together before, right?"

Oh. "Yeah, that one time…"

"And… This once I went out of the library sort of angry, and I took it out on Weasley, and Nott was there, and you were there…"

_You were angry, because we had upset Abigail. _

"And before that, we met in Hogsmeade, at The Three Broomsticks… I don't know why, but we sat at a table together…"

That was earlier on, when Abigail had just arrived back at Hogwarts, and Hermione wanted to go catch up with her, and I spent the entire time watching him… "Well, yes, those ones too."

"And before Christmas break, I signed my name on the list… You were there, and you asked me why I was staying back… Was that not you?"

That was even earlier on. I had come to the office to write my name on the list of students not going back for Christmas break, and had been surprised to see him there… "Okay, that was still me…"

"Back in September, on the train. You told me you looked forward to beating me this year."

I did, actually. "Yes."

"We were on the same team when we volunteered to clean up after the battle…"

I remembered sharing a bottle of water with him… "Yes."

"You saved us back in the Room of Hidden Things. You came back for me…"

I remembered the fire, Ron scolding me, Malfoy holding on to me so tightly. "I did…"

"You got caught by those Snatchers, and they brought you to the Manor. I knew it was you, although you looked different, but I couldn't give you up…"

Has this been going on long before I even realised it?

"So don't you tell me that it wasn't you either, at our Sorting Ceremony, who had stood up for a shabby Weasley kid against me."

It was my turn to be at a loss for words.

"It has to be you. It has always been you. How do I make you understand?" And in his eyes was a pleading look.

I knew then that this was Malfoy as I've never seen him before – this was him being true to himself. And I saw, _really _saw, that he was mine. He had always been mine.

I swelled up inside and soon found myself embracing him.

"You're right… those were all me," and, with nothing else left to be said, I closed the gap between us, finally claiming Draco Malfoy for myself.

* * *

_**[Author's Notes]**_

_I need to go to sleep now. No smut yet, sorry. But isn't fluff so much easier? Okay. Also, if you've heard the story about the man and the butterfly, do keep it to yourself for now. And kudos to you ^^_

_(Hermione is so a fangirl. And a Drarry shipper.)_


End file.
